In the spirit of all things we are not, I should be honest. Demand:take your cardigan off first, then my pantyhose, use your tongue to sound-out
our silence. I should confess to years under tongues of lovers who triedto lick me clean. How awful I am at wearing rings or
honoring vows to the man who made me a motherand to the mother I pretend to be. I take blame
in believing someone else will settle my skin to bone.We are the pause in between breaths after I remind you:
my search to be free has nothing to do with you and me.
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash