I
used to arch my back for boys who couldn’t even remember
the color of my bedsheets, but you, however, made me turnover the
arch on my mouth. You’ve sucked the bitterness from my neck
and taught my lips how to sing songs of laughter – going
easy, going slow. Fast, hard, who cares now? You can’t
break me. You shook off the nervousness from my bones when you
made a home between my thighs.
