White lost its virginitywhen I saw throughcherry eyes.The hoar turned to flame,my portrait, a whore.Who are you whogathers the hollyhockin your secret harem,seducing them,petal from petal?Am I coated in semenor menstrual blood?Never mind, my wombis full, either way.A new palette emergeswhen each hueis smeared, flushed,imbued with omens.I fear the spikes,blushed knives drawnfrom the sun reflectingon a cracked mirror.I fear the milk-turned-poisonfrothing crimsonat its tenuous surface.My mother grabs my wrists,her eyes aflame:you’re safe, it’s safe, she lies,nails, cardinal crested.Then I did not realizeall the time Iwas looking throughred glass.
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