Our safe word was buttons

I’m not sure why you chose it

Perhaps it was the way those b’s and t’s
hit like my belt to your bottom
or the way it sizzled out with a ‘ssssss’…

But I’m glad you had a word

I’ve whispered a thousand words
to the heavens

and none of them
saved me
from myself

Enough of the others, who are no more than
bacteria in sweatshop chic

Enough of being gang banged
by Mara’s daughters

Enough howling into hollow chests

Enough of the magazines
that tell you you’re worthless,
put them in a box
with your unanswered prayers

This life is a blood sport
But you are miraculous

An angel
worthy of the stars
that birthed you

To feel so intensely is a gift
And the hunger you feel
Is a malnourished love

Feed it