refreshing -
time ticks slower:
maybe to because i’m
not having fun
every time i pull
down on the screen.
the dotted circle
spins for three, four seconds until
i feel no vibration. i let go of
the screen. click on the username.
again, nothing. like for the
ninth day in a row, i
shut off my phone,
slip it into my back pocket,
and sigh out loud.
like for the ninth day in a row,
i wish that the waiting went just a
little bit quicker.
i trace a
broken heart across the
bone at my hip in
black and blue ink,
bruises blooming quickly
through the pale skin of my
torso.
showing true colors, i
present you with the
solution to my issue:
you, really, spun whispers of
abuse and misuse around
the nape of my neck,
pulling, strangling,
forcing my
womanhood, my humanity,
out of my ears, my
eyes, my nose, the
last moments of my
self-worth exiting
out of my dry,
cracked lips.
i learned that
peppermint beeswax applied through the
coating of my raw,
split self replenishes the
female feelings of my
rubbed body.
nothing you said to me
could chafe me of my
self-esteem, my pride, evan as
hours tick by where my
body isn’t my own.
thanks for
every second
you spent
fixing my hair and
filing my nails.
but why did
you stop
wiping my tears and
mending my heart?