you can't turn a whore into a housewife

I once had a guy tell me.

I once had a tattoo, I had multiple:

an A on my thigh because of

him, boy who wouldn’t give up, his

hands burning;

a z on my forearm,

sleepless nights sewing themselves to

my sleeves;

a set of incisors set into my

jugular, my left shoulder, my

thumb finger, battle wounds from not

fighting;

an x on my breastbone, white, the first,

marking my breasts or my

heart I don’t know which.



I wish I knew which.



I have had a guy tell me.

I have had myself tattooed and

re-erased, skin filleted onto outer

extremities to hide the pain,

leaving larger scars to cover

small ones, everything

aching red.

I have had the ink shimmer through like

glow worms beneath the grass and

I have driven a metal stake up

myself to try and escape it

it never goes away the a has faded,

i don’t know how, but sometimes

i touch the pale skin there, push, and can feel

it I once had a guy tell me