snap the barrel of a boy fully loaded with good intentions 

and shoot yourself.

break your own heart,

into jigsaw puzzle pieces 

so you can practice the art of putting yourself back together.

Slut.

A word so keen and so sharp,

Thrown at me but never to me

To be muttered under the breaths of the boys who I’ve denied

And whispered from the girls with whom I have never exchanged a word.

Start small

the changes we swore to in

resplendent troths, without vision because

I burst forth from childhood

flat chested frail wristed pinions

not yet grown: all down

and yielding. So told do not fly

compress

We look at a distant light 

With hope for self discovery 

fear of catastrophe, 

and self-inflicted wounds 

We dig through the mountain

in order to escape 

Eclipsing, 

suffocating our souls