I lack patience
But do not rush me.
Her hands burn my skin and
She pushes my spine into cold concrete.

Evil tastes like raspberries and she forced
Me to drink pineapple juice to
Chase her stink from my cavities
And veil myself with blank stares.

Cutting my skin to ribbons
Would chase the ghosts of bruises
Around my wrists and waist
And tender, childish curves.

Crimson replaces violet
And puce
And leopard spots become
Plumage of my own design.

I am a broken ragdoll
Added to the pile.
Touch me while you can
Before her ghost reminds me
How to paint my face in poppies
And crack my own ribs with lungs that
Heave like tides.