I should warn you,

you’re playing coy with a girl
who cries at mercy.
Who hates this new found “want”
for her body,
a body she does not love right now.

I should warn you,
that there were hands that held
her like a wave
cupped between their palms.
They marveled at the vastness of
her possibility;
they pulled her tide,
gently,
at first, then
roughly.

I should warn you,
this girl became choppy,
there was no steadiness in her sea.
There was only a howling,
a crashing,
a current grasping for
the beach.

I should warn you,
this girl dried up,
still slick and salty.
I should warn you,
This girl cringes at the thought
of hands in her body.
This girl sees fingers
and all she can think
is “bloody”.

This girl calls out each night,
even when you don’t reply,
and gives herself over
to the loving arms
of the Almighty.

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