Peanut Butter Me

This is a playful poem with adult themes, so you know, read at your own discretion.

Happy Friday!

Indigogo © Jun 2021, K. Hartless  

You think it’d be great to be
the peanut butter sea
in a man sandwich,
but actually, it’s sorta sticky,
suffocating, panicky.
The fear of losing one,
the fear of losing both.
Unable to see through
the cocoon of bodies
and rubbing so much rubbing
when you’re the glue.

You’d think it’d be easy
being peanut butter;
so much love-one-another,
but truth be told,
grips are light.
There is stiffening
and there is bite.
Then you can feel
them hardening,
no allergies to their obsession.
Peanut butter’s destination–
brittle, brutal mastication.


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