you, who would not know
empty eyes from drowning heart,
bore witness to
my aching clavicle,
my bruised chin,
my empty skull.
my hollow-boned body
still shudders subtly
remembering your butterfly kisses,
butterfly knife wishes.
i thought girls were supposed to be gentle.
YOU ARE READING
Girls
Poetry"golden head by golden head." A poetry collection by and for women who love women. © adroite 2016
