so I was born into hands

that didn’t know they were claws.

and loving was a vice

because, without a doubt,

you’d be unloved in the end.

so—my sister grew teeth

faster than she grew a heart.

my heart grew inside out,

and my teeth never learned

how to come in.

so—my mother rubbed my gums

with alcohol and leaves,

then left me alone

in hopes I’d learn

to make loneliness mine.

when I hear growling,

I think I hear God.

and sometimes I cry,

and other times I sing

throat-burning haikus

written by fearless men.

basically—my sister

sacrificed her innocence

so I could keep mine,

and still we grew up

the same way,

just at different times.

and basically—

I sacrificed love

so my mother could understand it,

but none of us ever

really knew what it meant.

and basically—

I am ready to sacrifice myself

for anyone

as long as they

look at me the right way.

(let’s not even talk about it.)