When I spoke about hernias, and exactly how our neatly ordered intestines can go rogue,
falling into spaces that are never supposed to contain them-
I got loud enough for you to remind me
that I am too fast, too loud, and too passionate
about something so distasteful-
so disgusting and banal.
Meanwhile, I never spoke about the bruises blooming
like organs through tiny holes-
I never spoke of the invasion of your cock
into my flaccid, seizure-soft mouth,
where it never belonged-
I never spoke of the weight of you,
crushing my voice like a twist of tissue
until I was plain, and bloodless, and pleasing to you.
I talked about hernias, loud and fast, BRIGHT with joy,
until you told me to stop.