Drip conceit upon me like wax,
Hardening against my skin in armored
Pretending. With each wrong word
A hammer cracks against it.
My skin turns sallow with
The baptism of opinions from mouths
That don’t even know the taste
I cross myself with fertile words.
Sacrifices to chastity, grace and honesty,
My three sisters who harangue me
Into a box in which I do not fit.
I will wash away this chalky
Second skin of regret and lost moments,
Seeing scorn on their expectant faces,
Bathing in their disappointment.
My failure to womanhood binds
Me as the sacrificial lamb. They will use
The cracks in my skin to plant seeds of
Lies made of should be and could be.
Watch the weeds grow and choke
My still form, unwilling and unconsenting
In a slumber so deep I would
Never wish to wake again.