Jessica Beatty

Rookie (Bremerton Washington)


Softly spoken I was not
Never soft
I have always had sharpe edges
The thought of soft things turns the bile in my gut
The steel touch of my cold hand to womanly to turn away from
In my younger days they swarmed like flies
Whispering their sweet nothings in my ear
Never noticing thier love was lost on the empty tomb
once home to my soul.

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