Literature
to a girl who learned the hard way
dearest Cass,
should you ever
come across a man who
calls you a poem,
run away.
i know at the time,
it'll seem like the most
beautiful thing
anyone has ever said to you,
but later in the day,
your own reflection
will call you
a bland piece of prose
and you'll cry till you're only weeping salt.
it will hurt enough to make
your wrist scars bleed again,
so run away before he
blames your reading addiction
for the hunch in your back.
my dearest Cass,
men will caress you while
ravaging you between your virgin legs;
just don't mistake it for love.
even storms don't rage
with thunder alone
and it is often just the rain
that floods entire homes.
C