Blistered, Calloused

Girl In Water

She ripped her heart out with her hands
And threw it on the ground;
Then stomped on it
To show she didn’t care

For men – she’d wanted one – were pigs;
And she would not be hurt.
Without a heart
She thought that she’d be there

Her skin, though soft like velvet crush,
Encased a calloused soul;
The blisters of
A happiness denied

So she would play the game, as well.
She’d never show her cards:
The truth, was now
An object to deride

She’d never chase that lie again.
Her body was her tool:
The one who called
The shots, who she would be —

These days, she rips out other hearts,
And makes it her delight;
And now, she is
Most happy — isn’t she?

4 thoughts on “Blistered, Calloused

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