when to believe in yourself (in parts) .3

If the liquor doesn’t squeeze the passion
Out of your nipples
He will
Beer tap taste breasts still hidden
Fabric hold saliva, like breathe hidden from blue faced newborns

And a part of you will die

With him, there are no wounds open to burn or sizzle
Just pushing against laytex
With skirt raised and thighs slathered in sweat
Too numb to flinch off words that cut girl’s flesh
In between the midnight hours

He is not your first, surely not the last man to find you
tipsy and writhering under his gaze
Politics baiting hopeful tongue for some attention

More recognition than the pretty legs and eyes
You’ve been cited for

And you will wait for them to catch up with you
Pushing against his overeagerness, too hard to feel
Where you really come from
You’ve learned to fuck for forgiveness
For esteem leaves you in puddles around ankles
Begging the whispers in your head to cease

Still, silence won’t greet you until hours pass
After you roll away from his flesh flushed of liquid
And possible children
After your thighs stop aching from unclaimed fingerprints
After the morning glare reveals his last grasp for your beauty


Part III