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Nameless

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They come at me

Slowly and tenderly they creep

Along the vastness of my skin

Dewy moist and soft

They say sweet things

With whispered tones

And then with strong arms

And tight hands

They pull forth their axes

Their chisels

Their hammers

Their wrenches

And set to long deep hot work

The climatic labor of tearing me apart

Piece by piece

Each bit quivers

Grateful to the numbness

As no passionate red blood drips

Stopped by the coldness in my veins

They make promises

They make requests

They make love

To the now deconstructed me

As I lay still and quiet

They come in me.

Comments (18)

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I love the end. Packs a punch that only a woman can fully understand. Well done

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I like the imagery, its very gritty and almost grisly. I wonder what wicked means by "that only a woman understands." I would like some insight into how this poem would affect a woman differently than a man.

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If you've ever laid there broken, deconstructed as miss shell most elegantly says... and have been filled with come, literally... it's an experience in itself. Numb, detached, and disassembled, only to be spackled like a hole in the wall... it's...

If you've ever laid there broken, deconstructed as miss shell most elegantly says... and have been filled with come, literally... it's an experience in itself. Numb, detached, and disassembled, only to be spackled like a hole in the wall... it's an insult.

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along with the sting that you allowed them to do this to you. I love seeing all this commentary and discussion when I log on the site. :o)

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Sister, I couldn't have said it better myself I laid in bed thinking about this poem last night... may I print a copy out for myself? you nailed the feelings I've tried to put on paper for years...

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Please do :o)

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What an amazing description of invasion, and how it affects us physically and emotionally. I love this.

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Joshua I'm with you, Christ on a cupcake girls, If you saw Christ stapled to a cross with railroad spikes, you'd hug mary and tell her how bad you feel for her right! Forget that Christ is in pain and he died for you, because well...He's a man....

Joshua I'm with you, Christ on a cupcake girls, If you saw Christ stapled to a cross with railroad spikes, you'd hug mary and tell her how bad you feel for her right! Forget that Christ is in pain and he died for you, because well...He's a man. Listen ladies, "A womans Scorn" sex, it was to quick, it's taking too long, faster faster, slower whats wrong with you, women and children first, I mean what's our worth? ONLY A MAN CAN KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING. By the way Shell you know I love your poems full of passion, and always wonderfully constructed, but give a dog a bone, because I think I'm in the dog house now Joshua.

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It's an interesting discussion. I don't know that men necessarily feel objectified in that sort of exchange, but many men do "objectify" and there are quite a few women that allow it. It's all a sad state of affairs, the whole lot of it ......

It's an interesting discussion. I don't know that men necessarily feel objectified in that sort of exchange, but many men do "objectify" and there are quite a few women that allow it. It's all a sad state of affairs, the whole lot of it ... celibacy is the only solution until we learn to value the person. Otherwise, it's just an animal function and if that's all that it is then that's all it is.

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I like the phrase used by wicked, "spackled like a hole in the wall." It's pretty damned stark.

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