I want to erase
every person who touched you
before me

how I wish you were a notebook
I could just turn to
the next page.

you only
know how to write for me
because you wrote for them first,
because you ****** them before me.

I have the breath
of other women now:
you kiss me, and it is shared.

everyone should die
when they want to touch someone

new
not just a little, but full
cellular reincarnation, new hands.

and I am mad that they still
exist

with pieces of you

and I am mad that you still exist
with pieces of them

and I am mad that
we use the same language to say I
love you that you did with
them.