Your Bones / Georges Bataille

I had been inside you so many times that my skin was cracked, worn, broken, bloody. So many times that I don’t know if I dreamed these times or if they are real memories. Didn’t you feel the taste of blood in your mouth? Have you not understood? Was it your teeth, was it your skin, your jewelry, your nails? Maybe all this at the same time. Maybe your bones? The barrette of your hair, the buttons of your dress, the leather of your shoes, the rings of your fingers. I left more than me in you. Much more than you think.

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