That summer I learned that the human body has 24 ribs.
I stayed up at night counting mine through my skin, begging each one of them for forgiveness.
My emaciated face revealing more than I dared tell my mother.
That summer I lost my baby fat, cried rivers, thought I had become a woman.
I grew to hide my secrets between my legs, hitting my now protuberant bones against tables corners,worrying my sister.
The flowers in me had withered, fertilizing the ground of my bedroom while the salt in my tears made sure that his name never grew back there again.
YOU ARE READING
Purple blush
Poetry''Everything you did to me, I remember. Mama, I made it out of your home alive, raised by the voices in my head. '' -Warsan Shire, Extreme girlhood
