Aimee Nicole

Control

When I let you tie me starfish style to 
your childhood bed, what I’m saying is 
take all my trauma and digest it 
slowly like a Thanksgiving dinner.
Use your calloused hands to begin a 
conversation with this body bloodied 
and disregarded by lovers past.
Drip paraffin candles on my bare chest, 
flames licking my wild regrets into silence. 
In this room, I release my natural 
chaos to your steady hands for repair. 

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