Pushing past the pudding skin
That life forms on the heart
Is not for the weak of stomach.
It takes balls of steel
to peel it off
and delve into love, again,
one spoonful at a time.
NB: I do not know why this thing is stuck in my head. It is repulsive and attractive at the same time, like one of those hideously ugly dogs that you cannot hate. It turns my stomach, and I know that is just because it is so appropriate. Fuck you, grotesquely apt metaphor.
I like the grotesquely apt metaphor.
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