Run, Heart, Run | by Efemia Chela

Run, Heart, Run | by Efemia Chela | African Poetry

I exercise this muscle in my chest with bad love, fake affection. Run it through a gamut of men, women real or not. willing or not. My vulva weeps, at the thought of you your pistachio pussy, pried open — rosey, tinged olive, rich. Our bones roll over each other; click, clap applause. Thick-necked men […]

from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2bWvtmE

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The Sphere

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