I am not the kind of girl
you bring home to your mother.
Iām the kind you drag into your bed
to forget someone elseā
and then canāt forget.
I am sharp edges wrapped in velvet.
I am the echo of every woman
who never got a soft ending.
I love him like a drowning thing
loves the hand that pulls it under.
I begged for his breath
even while I held mine,
waiting to be left again.
Because thatās what t...