Making out in his car in a vacant parking lot he called them “little nuggets”
I don’t want to be in my body.
The parts I don’t love I wish I could disembody.
We were kids born into a life of rules we could not forbid.
White and brown vertical lines decorate the exterior
Quaint studio 7 blocks from the beach became my temporary home
Screams reverberate off my pillow
Waves of emotion drown me
I’m told to find my footing; yet, there is no foundation.
In this market of women, I became his commodity.