I know why her leather boots stop
Above the ankles
And why her blue jeans make her look anything but
Blue jeans plain

Why her lips turn down so violently at the corners
Like any second she would shout out because her
Velvet ribbons are tightened too tight,
Her lashes too dark

She speaks with heavy eyes
And a swollen tongue and
Ever so slightly, the words she hopes to say
Are barricaded behind tainted lips,
And all that’s noticed are the stranger’s fingers
Clasped onto her hips

Her chest so coarse where the beating hearts collided
And hers pulsed through
No amount of scrubbing or washing or rising faded the
The blue and black stains
Which marked up her skin
Without permission, without her say

She walked with boots cut off at the ankles,
Worn
And her blue jeans faded,
Her blue jeans
Torn