poem part 1.

i am but history’s diary:

a diary of scorned

women like his mother

whose boyfriends left them

cracked open and

broken

of teenage girls, breath reeking of breast milk

still

who love with the tips of their fingers

and whole of their hearts

are broken

of boys blocking the fist of their fathers

and hating the skin they’re dressed in

I am here-

a poem you haven’t written.