By: Chelsea Brown


Bodiless hands grab between my thighs, 

In search of something? I don’t know. 


They trace the vertabrae of my spine;

Stroking my knee and telling lies.


My body wasn’t made just for me. 

(these starving fingers claw at my 


skin, tearing my flesh to shreds, leaving  

it out for hungry eyes to see.) 


Digits marvel at my so called “curves,” 

but I simply cower in shame. 


Their fingertips brush against my hips 

sending shivers throughout my nerves. 


They push my head down, down till I choke 

on that one word “yes” that I forced. 


These soulless hands don’t care about me, 

only the body that they broke. 


These hands are just so persistent, and

to my curses, they are immune.


They pull at my hair, around my throat.

I can’t help but think with a sigh:


“I would give my all to suffocate”

But the hands force my head afloat.


Art by Romesa Syed