I am not a delicate woman
don’t let my eyes fool you

letting go is usually easy for me
I know that most people are temporary

they are always surprised when my tongue comes whipping out

men come to me for healing
I lick their wounds clean

did I love you too well, too quickly?

do the layers of my skin make you weak

does my open tongue sting you even when she comes gently

dear god,

it’s been a while. I haven’t missed the old you that much. but sometimes I miss the old me. the one that was so

maybe it’s me

maybe I don’t have the capacity for a healthy relationship

maybe I fall in love too quickly

my expectations are suffocating

let the moon undress you before they touch your lips never forget

here, the woman says, drink this . she is holding a mug in her old tired hands; knuckles like tree knobs

I don’t think we ever stop wanting to be loved by the ones who created us. There had to be a little love there in

I want to write about the way you touched me and made love to me, but I don’t because