old fragments #1
organic construction
when my guttural cries lift gifted rosaries in fractured prayer, begging for forgiveness,
i know it is over.
when her "please" turns into "never again," and the emphatic desire dissolves,
i know it is done.
when our hallowed ground becomes soiled by unsteady and wandering feet,
i know i am resolved.
fault and shame weigh heavy on my back, i carry the burden of this end.
but i must weep no more, because from the passing roughage of my experience, i glean a lesson that can only be grasped with the tines of time and intent. i write:
follow the love, not the labia.
for what face would open mouth, bend tongue, and cry out for an incomplete me?
who among the whole relishes the labors of inducing growth in another?
i know this now, but only because ample time clarified that i am who my love is cultivated for,
and that the proper intent is to grow it myself and share it.
About the Creator
kp
I am a non-binary, trans-masc writer. I work to dismantle internalized structures of oppression, such as the gender binary, class, and race. My writing is personal but anecdotally points to a larger political picture of systemic injustice.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.