riled and gentle

“someone

has your name

written on a piece of paper.”

camels and jewels.

fornication.

you know.

honey.

it’s not a joke.

you never thought so.

it isn’t funny.

it isn’t the first time

you’ve thrown my scars at me.

flailing limbs.

am i your whore?

treading ground i don’t

belong.

i don’t belong.

maybe we don’t

speak the same language

after all.

don’t categorize me on dusty shelves

with the rest of them;

betrayer.

you can have all my names.

i will carve them

into your fingertips.

and i will still be able

to fly.