sharp glances.
deep in her wrinkles when
passing windows.
can’t seem to
thwart her own self persecution
and it shows in voluble shivers;
affirmations she mumbles as
she grabs the cuffs from
the table..

told me to sit down on the bed.
told me to lay face down on the bed.
told me to put my hands behind my
back. told me to
consent and
said she liked hearing stop,
the thud of impact,
prattling remorse
and doing things
slowly,
in pieces.

with repetition.

“how guys save me in their phone #11”