I change my hair every time a boy stops fucking me.
I shave the places he’s been,
Carve him out of my bones like turkey meat.
Trim the hair he’s brushed with combfingers,
Repaint the skin he claimed.
He slept in my bed last night, awake until 3 entertaining the idea of my genitalia –
It was not the first time he pleaded with my clitoris.
My brother hands me a flower and says, “This reminds me of you.”
He doesn’t know what they do to me.
I thought a bodycount made it easy to be loved.
How they tell people, “didn’t you know she swallows?”
I am too full to feel so empty.