reckless abandon

CW: body horror, sexual violence. (2024)

oh, we don’t talk about that.

aye, but my pelvis remembers

the blood, the stinging piss,

the haemorrhoids.

my pelvis remembers his eyes

rolled to the back of his head,

his gritted teeth,

his cock slapped against my face in the shower.

how i smiled as he bought my beers,

how i asked for him to tie me up,

how i asked for him to carry me to bed,

how i disappeared for twenty four hours,

how i was a five year old in an adult’s body,

but i just looked like a slut to him.



we dont talk about that.

but my inner thighs twitch throughout the day

and tingle like static, when they are static.

my pelvis remembers

the stiff cocks and dry vagina,

the sex toys at sixteen,

when i numbed myself and flew elsewhere,

smiled and did all the right things,

 prayed this would be over soon.

but it wasn’t, it never is,

because my body does not forget,

it stores its sores like urns of ash

pulsing in my nerve endings.



oh, and my pussy remembers

my wanting a one night stand with a man 

who looked exactly like my ex.

except he did not kiss me gentle, no,

he gnawed my lips off and gave me herpes

because i did not want to shag without a condom

but did not know how to say no.

my pelvis remembers

longing for love and getting fucked instead.

Image: ‘The End of Love’, Tracey Emin, 2024.