Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

visions of a dirty, man-hating feminist

i dreamed of peeling
my breasts like an orange,
stripping away the sexuality
until all that remained
was functional.

"come here," he said,
"you don't know what you're doing."
his hands were very cold
and his breath
smelled of citrus.

"come here," he said,
and i felt my purpose slip away.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback