Blame it on the years, she said.
I harden with each
page flip of the calendar.

I am strong but not
courageous, she said. I do not move,
instead endure. No shame

in withstanding the weather
beating rain, beating sun
Yet I yearn for

impact, she said. Expose me–

long lost under layers,
firmed sediment, pressed powder,
insidious sand–

to the wind. It takes more
than your pitying eyes
to crack me open–

she plead. Fuck me
like you want to
break me.

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