Give it back. I did not build myself from paper mache only to wooed by a man undeserving of everything that makes me powerful. I know I should not cry. God—I know I should not ******* cry. You are undeserving of the ocean that swells inside me— I will not spill for you. I will not let you lick up the salt. You have taken enough. Built this storm inside my chest only for it wrap itself around my lungs. To the **** boy that stole my heart and threw it in the garbage as if it was leftovers: I am still searching through plastic bottles and used tissues. Trying to dust myself off but i am still the **** of your sick joke. The ***** newspaper. Yesterdays comic. “Just another *** that wants your ****.” They scoff. As if I am nothing more than a carcass.
Burn me to ashes. Dust to dust.
Hollow me out. Chop off my *******. **** everything beautiful out of me until I am a shell of a woman. Sticking pins and needles in myself to keep from falling apart. Wipe your feet on me. Twirl my hair in your fingers. Grab my ***. Anything. This is your world. Choke the feminist right out of me.
I’ll scream your name.
To the **** boy that stole my heart: I hope you fall in love with a powerful woman. A woman who demands the respect I never could.