Hands on Another
I grew you a garden but you didn’t like the dirt on my hands.—Mt
You said everything
you wanted to say
like sex was your
food
As though secrets
became bullets
don't tell me
you love me
when your hands
are one
someone else's body.
The way your hands
captivate a knife
that burns off
the fear that love
is a fake feeling
like my body was trophy
in fencing case
The way your words
slither on the curves
of my body, or the
way my spanish
tongue insultes the
blackness you
refuse to carry.
You should have
never told me you
loved me because
maybe fear smells
like the remains
of shallow heart,
smelling the shame
you perfumed
on my body
You only wanted
one thing.
The virtute a woman
carries on her sleveve
in the pit of her stomach
made of stone and white cotton
like perfected dove.
I'm still pure...I fell
in love were fear
is the remains that
the words I love you
are the exlir
as my tapestries
untangles
As your eyes still wander
over the body you judged,
the lips you silently
kissed as swans danced
in unsion.
The fear is the breakup
that reveals itself in text behind
curtains, the way the words
cut into my skin like samba
I never loved you frying
my heart on the camale
like a burnt tortilla.
But the difference is my
fear isn't love but
you were mistake as
someone else became
blessing.
yet I learned to love myself
when you couldn't
I no longer fear
your water-downed words
bc I never knew love like
my childhood
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