It's All Relevant

“Women like me do not fall gracefully,
we stumble over our spines, trip over
our vowels, and collapse into your arms.

Our hearts are open books.
Russian novels containing filthy pages.
Your voice drifts across
the telephone wires each night.
Our hearts are first drafts,
unedited verses about each and every
person we have ever loved and lost: the stranger
on the subway, that night on the elevator with a man whose eyes burned through your soul,
the boy who stole our virginity
but not our hearts.

Women like me will love you from a distance
of a thousand syllables while laying in your bed,
we will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible,
and when we leave you will finally understand
why storms are named after people.”

by M.K. Wilde, Katrina