I need it,
sometimes it turns me to pulp
and it shreds me into bits of emotions
leaves me holding onto my mother’s knee, sucking my thumb

when I hear my family can’t sleep at night
my arteries change seasons
don’t you know that I’m falling this year
for the whispers of ocean in men’s voices

and the kisses cut from the devil’s hair,
not afraid to say what it is,
I’m desperate for self-esteem, as ripe as the moon
as ready as a woman’s sad blue eyes

it doesn’t matter to me,
I crave it,
more than the needle to thrust into my tongue
let it come from you.


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