T(he)y want(s) to steal my innocence and my joy. T(he)y want(s) to put it in a box and make fun of it. T(he)y want(s) to tease me because t(he)y do(es)n't like how bright I shine. 

I am tremendously ravenous. What used to rend and gnash is now an energy that spills in buckets, gushing down hardened concrete steps. A release. An ungripping. Beneath the phosphorescent lock of his eyes, the warmth and waiting of a closet where hands and breaths are held. 

The warmth and waiting. The poised breath. The wild. 

I don't remember the first touch; only upside down monochrome and a pinky promise. A hand on mine. Over and over. 

Afterwards, the blind rat in my chest chews slowly on my ventricles without tasting. I will never fully live while she lives.