She asks,

_How much will be left_

_of me when you’re done?_

He kicks off his shoes,

shrugs off his coat,

steps forward twice,

and says it won’t matter—

_She’ll be fixed._

__

**DEDICATED TO:**

the girl who thought those

men could save her,

because she tried everyone else.

who learned too soon

that her hands and mouth

were meant for something rotten.

who carries, even in her marrow,

their filth,

their slick little lies.

you are not a slut.

you are not a monster.

it is not your fault.