Work Text:
I feel like two hollow halves of a sphere.
One, coloured red, is smooth as plastic, a glossy gleam
And demands its birthright: to be filled.
The second, ochre yellow, is a sandpaper-rough, sticky soft item
That winces, cringes, sighs in relief
And wishes only for one thing, in a sage, sensible voice:
to let people do as they please.
They cradle each other as they wait
The selfish filling itself with the wafer of its other half
The selfless gratified by the smooth shell at its back.
It feels a little empty
And it's clearly not enough
But, for a while, at least, they can wait.