i’m sorry i cried when you touched me
i wasn’t used to fingers
feeling like feathers
and hands holding me
like a kind of ripe fruit.

lovers before you
were a bit more heavy handed
hard headed
tossing me around like some old toy
that they were tired of
uninspired and
wringing me like
i somehow had the answers
tucked so far in deep.

i am not used to being handled
gently.