How many times must my fists smack your stiffness until you soften?
I donβt want to use my fists, Iβm not violent.
Even in defense, words raised to take the hardness,
silently, repeat, repeat.
Raised to repeat, repeat.
I never wanted to be violent.
I donβt want to use my fists, but your stiffness is contagious.
I donβt know how to look at you without them,
smacking every corner, separating hard shells.
I donβt want to use my fists.
my hands,
Theyβre raw and dry, too sanitized.
and my shell is colliding, oozing, fermenting
into juices of the berries you forbid.
I donβt want to use my fists anymore.
My hands want to open, softly.Β Β
Sweet unfolding fingers
offer demons blessed darlings.