The word ‘poet’ no longer sits comfortably between my teeth.
I grind it, choke it down, regurgitate it, manipulate it to be something it never will.
I wash it down with lovers, cut my feet on the shards of broken hearts I leave behind.
Still, your curse bleeds out from feet and wrists that carry the cross I bare.

You made me from the scars of every woman you ever hurt.
My body is an ocean of tears that were cried in your name.
Your infidelities, the ball tied to the chain that pulls me under.
Under the dead weight of guilt left on a 1000 lips that weren’t my mother.

Now she sits at the table, by all accounts alive and well, but we know you killed her.
Your face rests upon my bones, tormenting her, like a ghost forever caught in limbo..
You're the XY. Shes your ex and I’m your why? Like why create a body you won’t love.
The ghosts of your women scream inside my head, like I should die for your sins.

So I give myself entirely, and fall in love with everyone I meet.
I’m looking for silence, my chalk outline hidden between bed sheets.
Because this is what you taught me, this is all you ever said.
Naked I wait for someone to hold me, to settle the panic in my head.