I bite my tongue every time a man calls sexual assault victims “liars.”
This is not a metaphor.
I have literally been spitting out blood
ever since men learned how to speak.
When the sun sets
you are all the men in dark alleys
I was warned about.
Somedays you lurk in the concrete and street
lights of my own bed.
I keep having the same nightmare.
Here, men listen to me like they do in waking hours
which is to say they don’t.
Once, I was drunk at a high school party
and a boy said he would kiss me if he didn’t
respect my boyfriend so much.
Once, I was drunk at a high school party
and I did not have a boyfriend
so the boy did not ask.
I have journeyed to the edges of myself and back
to satisfy insatiable men.
Here is to all the hours I have spent
crying to nobody.
Men don’t seem to understand that the messes they leave
do not magically disappear.
I am tired of cleaning up both dirty laundry on the floor
and the pieces of myself men have decided were inconvenient.
To be human is to take up space.
To be woman is to be more than the times I’ve said yes.
I mean, when I am not there for your consumption,
I still exist.
Today, my presence is bull in a china shop
and I am embracing every shatter.
I am every time I was told to be quiet
but I have forgotten how to take commands.
I am so tempted to believe in a world where I am not afraid
that today, just for a minute, I am not.
Years ago, a man sucked the word “no”
from my mouth, and hid it in today.
As in, I just re-learned my own self worth.
I will be an interruption of this tragedy.
Our joy is all we have to fight with
so lets be so happy
lets own our own bodies
so damn loud
we drown out the ignorance
with all this freedom.
Poems 