fragments

He with his lips that were too soft and limp for my kisses, this one with his rough calloused hands, that one with his cum that burned me from the inside.

“They” say it takes seven years for our cells to regenerate and make us into completely different people, so those parts of them have never touched any parts of me, now.

One by one they broke me into pieces, but I finally feel clean.


This was written for Tri-Writing with Maya Stein, 3 lines for 21 days. Photo by Genessa Panainte on Unsplash

born for this

I’m born from secrets and lies and scandal but I was born into love, into the green house on the hill that I will always call home, into the arms of my grandfather – the only man I’ll ever trust.

I was born from freedom and free cocktails and dancing ’til practically lifeless in New York City, I was born to use this body better than I am, I was born to do more than just quietly walk the Earth, I was born to move these hands and scream.

And now I think I was born for you, for laying in your arms in the gray morning light in the same house I still call home, where I breathe in your kisses and wonder what we were made for, if we were born for this.


This was written for Tri-Writing with Maya Stein, 3 lines for 21 days. The prompt was: “In 3 lines, write about where you’re from (geographically or otherwise).”

Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash