Our lives are spread apart into many unholy chapters.
First words. First steps.
Breasts grow. Horns grow.
Our flesh is bathed in the blood of hungry men.
We bare woman's teeth when we hear "I love you".
We sink woman's fangs when we hear "I want you".
Our bodies unseen mountains,
Our chastity an unconquered biome,
Our girlhood an unpicked fruit.
Ripe one fortnight, rotting the next.
Accursed are the children born to the devil.
Too young/too old.
YOU ARE READING
the veiled lady/hailstones between my teeth
Poetrythere is nothing out there there is nothing beyond this here this is it *** 12/16/23 first book of poetry there is nothing beyond
