Things I Write But Never Say
Men have picked me up
Warmed me in hot hands
Left me for dead
Placed their baggage on my neck
Belittled me
Forced me to smile
Or stay when I needed to leave
Described me
Without knowing me
Needed me
Believed in me
For a time
Chose me above others
Chose others above me
Found God in my eyes
Transcribed my fears as their own
Insulated their pride with my soul
Introduced me to mothers
Loved my scars and kissed them goodnight
Mouthed “olive juice”
Tasted my skin
Spit it out
Promised me worlds
Galaxies
Forgotten me
Replaced me
Professed love in prose or poetry
Died in my name
Watched while I passed away
Revived my flesh but not my soul
Questioned me
As if I was theirs
Muted my voice
When it became too loud
Explained me away
Kissed my feet
Placed rings on my fingers
Chains on my neck
Placed offerings at my shrine
Oil on hands
Moved mountains
Danced in the rain with me
Apologized for things they didn’t do
Denied the things they did
Used my body
As paper
For words they could not say
Made me a wife
A whore
A martyr
A liar
A goddess to worship
But only on Sunday
Wet mouth, dry words
Gave seed to my womb
Watched as I birthed him
Watched as I bled
Helped me to die
Wept at my wake.