my tits are tanned and my fears, fresh

i told myself the first time i turned over to cry like this

to forget it ever happened. i was five and had felt

my mother’s distance.

i rolled over and

i told myself i’d stop crying

long before i made this journey

uphill. the sky is a

deep plum, droves of patchy flesh-like dirtmountains

and it’s not cold enough yet

for the wind to wipe my face clean,

so i do it myself, like with everything else like

with this walk anyway, from work to home because

these feet are the only thing i can count on.

the kids i see in passing help me

realize i really am all alone and will always

be. not because of anything i’ve done or

will ever do, but because that is the truth

my groceries feel like bags of junk and all i want

is for someone to at least help erase all these colors

deep in my chest,

i’ve learned to take care of myself and

that’s why writing is harder.

i knew from a young age that i wanted to have sex

it’s a brutal act and i was already

familiar with apprehensive pain and

tender loving.