when the boy broke your wrists by covering them with his own
you cried and said it was because he loved you most

if only your tears could wash the blue green purple clots from your neck and shoulders
that you blanketed with your twist pierced fingers

then maybe you wouldn't feel you were a clam in the tide
shrunken closed from the pounding against rocks against demand

when the boy left because you couldn't be kissed without crying (shaking screaming breaking)

you used your flowered hands to fight your own self and tear at your own skin

until your mother kissed your eyelids and you covered yourself up to you ears

until your fingers spread to show the scars