she's asking what you're gonna teach your son.

"she knows how much control is worth,
knows what a woman can lose
when her power to move
is taken away"


we were given hands.
i can't keep mine clean.
there's dirt under my nails.
my skin is cracked,
i don't use enough lotion.
my cuticles haven't been pushed back in years.
there's ink from yesterday's hasty note.
they're sore from clutching my ears,
to block out things i should not be hearing.

things that should have never happened.

but they're not covered in blood.
from a heart i've knowingly ripped out.
there isn't the smell of sex i shouldn't have had.
they're not tight from holding down someone's wrists.
i've never claimed to love someone
that could drive me to that point.
because that's a lie.

so yeah,
i'll admit it,
my hands are dirty.
but yours?
your hands are filthy.