i lost my virginity in a one star hotel in chinatown.
picture this, i was sixteen
he ransacked my body,
taking what wasn’t his
as i cried
get off me
please, god, get off me
he stained those ****** white one star hotel sheets
with my blood,
which wasn’t his to spill
he told me everything’s ok as i tried to push him off of me
i couldn’t sit right for a week after that
sometimes we pour sugar over our wounds because we think that
we need a sparkling trophy for all the pain we’ve gone through,
we want to make the darkest corners of our lives shine
but the ******* truth is
some things were never meant to be beautiful
i was *****
and no poem i will ever write can make that any less ugly
there are some rooms in this house that company shall never enter.
don’t think you are obliged to gild all your heartbreaks,
for in doing so, you are only fooling yourself.
so don’t read this and say it was a pretty poem.
it’s an ugly, ******* disgusting poem,
as it should be.