omg i just looked at my tumblr on a pc & i’m stabbing my eyeballs out
Writings for Winter: poem for the boy who called me a slut
It’s not really any of your business how many bodies
I’ve waded through knee-deep like water since I grew old
enough to know what sex was, or how many condoms
I’ve bought in the middle of the night at Costco
with shades on so the clerk wouldn’t recognize me.
When I turned eleven, my mother…
