Someone else’s anatomy by Emilia Mammino

When he bites my skin,
I dream of how your teeth used to sink in. 
These bites do not have your imprint. 

I wish his hands would fit the way yours did around my neck, 
But they’re not your yellow stained nails,
oh, how I used to hold them dear to my chest. 

When his tongue flicks my clit, 
I look up at the ceiling, 
Relieve the way we used to intertwine. 

I lose myself to someone else that cannot replace us, 
But I give in these moments of addictive fake pleasures,
To try and quiet the emptiness.  

He keeps going as I abandon myself
to another performance. 
I’ll be who you want me to be, 
just to not feel abandoned, 
accepting the final bitter taste. 

Eyes that make me feel loved, 
Even when I don’t want it
because it’s your love I crave. 

He’s holding my face 
with so much fragility, 
while I chant ‘I’m not here’ over and over. 

A shameful tear falls down my eyes, 
Oh, how easy this self-destruction comes to me, 
When I accept that I am the worst person to walk on this earth. 

Maybe, he will become what I need. 
Only time will tell. 
For now, he satisfies the distraction of not touching myself to us.

Emilia Mammino is an aspiring poet and musician based in London. She often uses poetry to narrate her own emotions and fears. Through her poems, she contextualises her own evolving identity and emotions, within themes of the body and childhood. One day, she hopes to publish her own collection of poems. 

Instagram: @emilia_mammino