Weapons (Reprise)

They’re weapons

your bump, symmetrical heartbeats

and the armour of your stretching skin.

 

They’re weapons

your glowing face, your growing curves

the muscles that have carried him for months.

 

They’re weapons

the kicks, the burps

the prodding feet demanding to escape.

 

And I’m silent

a mess of excitement;

scared because he’s broken your waters.

 

 

 

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