My Rebuild Was Fire

 

Place your

hand over

my mouth.

Lightly.

Make sure

I can

breathe

but never

speak. 

Creepily 

smile 

and request

it back

just 

to make 

yourself

feel powerful.

Only 

acknowledge

me when

it suits 

you.

Cast attention

on the 

shortest skirt,

prettiest hair,

and let your

shady eyes land

on the parts

that 

make 

me nervous. 

Force onto

me the

sash of

a breakdown.

Check mate. 

The 

union of 

squawking 

birds

spit you out

as my

professional 

departed clay

spin 

was thrown.

My rebuild 

was 

fire.