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I lick male validation off knives, and as the blood drips from my tongue, I'll continue to wonder how many times I will cut myself open for another man, before I realize my blood with never lead them back to me.

He has watched me wear my pain like a skin and always acting like I'm faking it.

So I act like it doesn't hurt as I lick honey off the thorns offer to me instead of flowers. We accept what we are offered and never complain, even when it makes us bleed.

And like a pomegranate I beg that you eat me.
Tear me apart viciously and make a mess.
Get past my tough, bitter shell
To the sweet seeds that pull you to me.
And for the love of my patron
Goddesses, please be rude.
Please demand to have my body and soul.
Please make me dirty and more appealing
Towards the world... Make me yours.
Make. Me. Yours.