I think I’m addicted to acting the way,

Behaving the way,

I feel:

Shit.

No, I never meant to-

I-

No, I never intended to-

I-

didn’t set out to break your heart

I think that it came naturally to me...

Snapping those heart strings it’s what

I-

It’s what I’ve always done best.

Affection is a weapon they say,

Charm is a murderer they say,

The blood you lose during womanhood?

It foreshadows the blood men lose when you kill them.

I-

never thought that-

Nobody ever thinks they’re a killer.

Turns out I always was.

We women are.

Don’t men always refer to our rouge?

Yes, the blood God painted on our mouths, our cheeks...

Took you down day 1 with my paintbrushes,

(They brushed your lips, stained your skin)

Left you for dead day 50 when I inked another man,

(A desolate canvas)

Unarmed by the blood of another,

I-

Stood with my fingers like knives,

Their nails like arrow heads

I-

Don’t know how to touch you without hurting you

Because I can sense those scars are still there

I look at you when I can,

When your face is turned away,

Because

I fear I have the same stare as Medusa

I was taught that my legs were built for my escape,

My fast run,

My threatened exits,

They were wrong.

I-

Seem to only use my legs to part them

I-

Seem to only use my legs to trample your heart

I wish they were only ever taught to walk,

The way boys’ legs are taught to.