a prose
when the flame was small, i nursed it. fed it the secrets from in between my thighs. i wasn’t eager to hold on to them anyway. they had always made my thighs burn in a way my slit’s slickness could never cool. then i gave it my forearms. it wasn’t a worthy offering honestly. they weren’t strong enough to bear the weight of my misery. always giving out too soon. naturally, my shoulders wiggled free to leave with them. they had to make…
