We need to invent another language together.
Can you do that for me?
Can we construct our own indestructible tower
of words undefilable
words that are joy shout and YESSS
Because as it stands, you tell me
You like me

I translate:
I like power over you

You tell me you have thought about us being together
And I wonder how many other women perfume your mind,
our legs entwining in your nucleus accummmmmmbens
You tell me my body is perfect, made for you
I translate:
I own you.

I know you tell others the same,
Assembling parts of our perfect bodies
to use interchangeably
A fraternity dream on your hippoCampus
You tell me Always with enough uncertainty that
I translate: Always,
be afraid that I will leave you

You ask me Do you love me?
I translate:
How much of yourself would you kill for me?
A boy is funny, sweet, maybe even Good
He tells me he likes me
And I need to throw up.
There are no clean words anymore.
In order to continue,
we need another way,
of speaking love– that vile and defiled word
You can’t call me baby
I’m going to need another nickname- may I suggest, woman.
Show less certainty in your feelings,
the only action I believe is hesitation
You know what, on second thought
we are going to have to do away with forever and trust altogether
And we can’t hug, we can’t cuddle,
We definitely can’t fuck.
Maybe we can vroomf , blurffle, and grumck instead.
Even safety and comfort I am uncomfortable with.
You tell me,
I love you

I translate:
I will abuse you

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