When I said I couldn’t feel you,
I didn’t mean I couldn’t feel you inside me
Just that I felt nothing inside me.
When you asked me if I liked that
I only nodded because I couldn’t fight back.
When you mentioned how wet it was I couldn’t get over how dry my mouth had been.
When I was on my back I became friends with the ceiling, I knew it heard my thoughts over his low pants and fast breaths.
When you placed your hand on my face to tell me you loved me, I knew this wasn’t the love my mother talked about.
When I pulled my shirt over my head and thought to myself how dirty I felt but you’d never know. I never wanted to be touched like that again.
You didn’t deserve to see my secret garden.
You didn’t water my plants.
You didn’t feed my soul.
You polluted my soil with your weeds.
Stripping my land from its beauty.
My petals so smooth, so delicate, and vibrant with color. Slowly wept as they got weary of your touch. All that was left under all that beauty laid my thorns.
It was only then when I realized why our skin is our largest organ because it tells our stories.