Fat Bottom Girl Said What

Maritime Moratorium

“Go with the flow,” you said,

as though it’s easy to ride the current

of these feelings I bleed.

The clouds of my mind obscure the North Star,

I have no compass to guide me,

and I find myself lost at sea.

No one sends a search party,

when no one misses you,

and your SOS is a silent scream.

Cell Level

Your home. . .

is in the curve of my hip

and between my thighs

and in the dip of my collarbone

and behind my 5th and 6th left ribs

and when you go (because they all go)

you will be imprinted in my cells

Malnourished

The crumbs you gave me

weren’t enough to sate the hunger of my orphan soul

Too long without proper sustenance

I gorged myself on the tidbits you dispersed

But my stomach turned in on itself

your lies burning holes in the lining

Starving to death is better

than trying to digest someone’s insincerities

A Wake

I am too rough around the edges and would cut your soft heart

leaving you to bleed out among the detritus

empty bottles

plastic shopping bags

in the road side ditch

But my heart is kind so I would feel bad

and run back to apply pressure to your wound

but it would be too late because my words are too sharp and piercing

So I have no choice but to walk away

and leave your carrion for the vultures

who will feast on the tenderness of your kindness and respect

which my self-hatred would not allow me to stomach

Incendiary Devices

I piled your platitudes in the middle of  the floor

and set fire to them

It’s surprising how well words burn

when laced with lies

Incendiary devices meant to ignite passion

burnt to ash with the strike of a match

You were merely another flash in the pan

and I’m left scalded