I found womanhood on the shaved blades of hair on my skin,
in entrees of sin that would arrive every month in love’s restaurant.
Pre-menstruation, lust would offer herself up and I’d shun her advances,
although we are playing footsie under the table you will not score.
During each course you will look at me and I will smile emptily without food in my teeth, you will order more.
And you will visualise my mouth and south and I will flare because I have prepared for this.
On my bathroom break I will use perfume to mask my pheromones and return to enjoy my dessert which is now cold enough to soothe my burning body.
You will continue to gaslight me and I will refuse the flame until you take me outside and I combust with the thought of being alone tonight.
“Take me home.”
We go to your unfamiliar home and only just make it to the kitchen before you are tracing my bare brown skin.
You hoist me onto a surface and it’s like we are meeting for the first time because you have found me.
Without a fuse we make fire.