fast hearts alone in your parents’ house
going between aggressive and tender
half moon fingernail marks in the skin
with teeth-borne bruises underneath

we are so tender,
the fruit who offers resistance to enemy teeth
minds and imagination ripe
just a stage in the grand scheme
still valuable, regardless of what others believe

somehow it is mid july
and i still shiver,
my body so cold.

a blush on my cheekbones
warms me up from inside out,
too fleeting for comfort.

much too late for an abortion
and asking for necessity
is far too selfish of me.
i do not want to be
an obligation to you.
you always told me
you wanted a daughter,
but you never show it.
you always say
“i’m so sorry
i will change”
and i never want to believe you
but i always do
and i never have a reason to.
my blood is nothing to me
because i am nothing to them
but a problem.

i adore my softness
my round peach fuzz tummy
poking out, shielding the bones
that once ruled over my mind

it is not normal for me
to lust for your soul
crave chaste intimacy
so what an uncomfortable surprise
to feel these things after the drought