Chain linked silver around my neck, a against my neck your hand. On my sides, Calvin Klein. Against my sides your hands. As you graffitied my back for the class to see, you defaced a worthless property. Molested, like a pre picked flower. In early January. Almost dead anyway, at least that's what she thought she heard that he had said. But it's hard to hear over the thundering laughs. The scribbes across her back, sunk beneath her skin. She tried to convince herself it Was about what you lacked. She's almost dead anyways, why not pick her too soon.