I’m only used to being loved halfway.
I don’t remember what it feels like to be poured in, to the brim,
spilling over because my heart cannot hold all that’s been given.
I’m only used to being touched as an object, not as their one and only.
Men have used sex as a form of entitlement,
which showed me they thought I was worth penetrating,
but not worth protecting.
They brought me pleasure, but couldn’t bring me peace.
written March 24, 2018.