Broken Pussy

You are afraid to look between your legs
but for different reasons now.
Before you feared the unknown.
You saw it as abject.
Now you are a traitor.
You wonder if your vagina
will ever forgive you.
It’s been banged up and bruised,
all because you wanted to feel
a little less alone.
Was it even worth it?
You don’t feel empowered.
You just feel disenchanted.
Just a scared, lost heteronormative girl
living in a heteronormative world.
For you,
sex
is getting caught
between the dick thrusting into you
and the speculum pushed inside of you.
Sex
is getting caught
between lying on his bed/backseat/couch
and lying on the exam table.
Sex
is getting caught
between getting pounded in the dark
and getting poked under fluorescent lighting
between text messages that spell out what you and him are not
and surveys that ask “Does your partner support you when and if you become pregnant?”
Sex is getting caught
between waiting for him to come
and waiting for their diagnosis
between paying $20 for condoms
and paying $50 for your copay
between paying $7 for lube
and paying $17 for your antibiotics
between him murmuring “Come for me”
and you thinking it will never happen
between his look of hunger
and your doctor’s look of concern
between his hands on your body
and you wishing it was someone else’s
between your throbbing pussy
and your sobbing alone
between the therapist asking for your sexual orientation
and you replying “Straight” but wanting to add “unfortunately”
You only wanted pleasure.
You only wanted warmth.
You only wanted safety.
You never wanted to cry alone in the doctor’s office,
embarrassed and in pain.
You never wanted to think your mother was right.
You never wanted shame to flood your insides again.
You just wanted him to hold still inside of you
so you could feel like a home
instead of a graveyard,
a harbor instead of a hole
You wanted to bury yourself in his body
the way you want to bury your regrets
You wanted him to keep kissing you
to forget how empty this feels
You wanted his touch
to fix how broken you are
even if it was only real
in the heat of the moment
with your bodies tangled in the dark
pretending this was something more than it is
or was that only in your head
He asks, “What are you thinking about?”
and you tell him, “Nothing”

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