A three-part poem about sexual assault.
A poem about female power.
A prose piece about sex, manipulation and online dating.
I peer through the holes in the sheets, I poke my finger through, wiggle my thumb, wonder when we’ll all be done.
When I think of my life, it splits into two sections divided by a thick line, a line made up of the hands of men who turned my life and me inside out: the before and after I was sexually assaulted.
Forks scrape against plates and the word just hangs there Dripping.
The story of my breakup begins on the morning of my first 8am glass of wine.
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