I’ve heard stories
whispers across the hall
of slut of whore
the gossip rolls on your tongue
who kissed who
or who broke her heart
it’s all the same to you

I isolate myself
because it may consume me
I cannot let it in
because it may make me weak
vulnerable
naked

it will swallow me
open opportunities for mistakes
but remember do not love me
please let me go
before it’s too late
I don’t want to be a story