You’re putting your t-shirt back on and

handing me my underwear from the dusty floor.

I brush off wood shavings.

 

You look down at me.

The light from your phone screen

is dim in the dark heaviness of the room.

 

Your eyes are cold, toothed blades. 

I smile up at you,

but you just motion for your sweatpants. 

 

I stand up from our makeshift bed of clothes 

and give them to you.

Suddenly you’re dressed, 

 

and I feel awkwardly naked: 

as if you’d just whittled my body

into a shape you no longer liked.

 

You sneak out first so we don’t get caught.

Still dripping with you, I reclothe myself in the dark.

I meet you outside, smiling numbly. 

 

We walk wordlessly back to our dorms.

I sob silently in the shower—

How does it feel to fuck a shattered girl? 

 

Furiously scrubbing you from my skin,

I swear I’ll stop sacrificing my body

to your apathetic penetration,

 

but even as I think it, I know that 

I’ll keep letting your knife carve me 

until I have nothing left to give.