I am not your girlfriend
The young girl whose body you were first
To open
In that way
That all female bodies will open
Eventually
Some sooner than others.
My body was opened by another
A long time ago
And then prised open more and more
By many other others.
Sometimes I loved them.
Sometimes I didn’t.
Sometimes they loved me.
Sometimes they didn’t.
It’s a long history
Complicated and even if I tried
I could never tell you the truth,
Neither the humiliations
Nor the acts of nobility.
I know I will want to show you a picture
That doesn’t exist
Like when I believe that the last perfect look
I throw at the mirror before leaving for the day
Is the look I’ll wear all day long,
Even when I become angry at a slow driver,
Or trip on the sidewalk
Or spill coffee down my sleeve.
All I can try to show you is in my eyes
When I plead with you to be something immune
To the disease of goodbye.
Did I love you more than others? More than anyone else?
I will tell you
That when I put the mask on for you
I gave an extra rotation of the screws
Though the rust dug into my scalp and drew blood,
I endured the pain,
To keep it on just a little bit longer, pleading
Not yet, not yet,
Not while every word you spoke to me was still capable of
ripping a hole the size of a planet in my stomach
where the butterflies rushed in.