My Own Value

My mussel, gaping, black, and blue

was forked open

 

but time

tequila

   and tension

stick us back together.

 

Now the sea

sobs

down

my

thigh.

 

 

While far off

the exit sign flashes

whispering in my ear.

 

 

My shell slams

              splashes

              finally singing

because he lays without pleasure

and I leave without pain.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741