Your momma should’ve known better.
She was a teenage girl once too
with a fascination for
the foreign ripe-ness of a peach
or a pomegranate.
(What is it with women and fruit?)
She should’ve warned you
girls don’t tell their own stories;
we stand in the wings as they
unravel around us.
And if you could, what would you say?
When they asked you
why you stayed
which truth would you tell?
You were an open wound, and you thought he could fill it.
You liked the way he made you taste of rosebuds.
You were dying for a snack.
go on. Blame gravity.
Samantha Fox is a writer, filmmaker, and feminist thinker based in New York City. She recently had a poem published in the "Love Poems" edition of the Poeming Pigeon Literary Journal. Find more of her work on Instagram @sam_fox_scribbles.