what sex meant to me
被揉 拧 成一 团 的床 单轻轻 遮住了我的双眼 陌生的距离 变 得不那么遥 远 触 电 般的 颤 抖和棉花一般的触感 身体是有 记忆 的 我 小心地回想过去 被解开的衣 服 滑落身体 但我不能理解 镜 子里的自己 为 什么糊成了一 团 像是爬 满 虫卵的花束 晚会 过 后便被唾弃在路 边 而 为 此我却不停地道歉 Twisted linen clouds my sight― nearness folds into static. Velvet nerves spark, cotton hush the flesh remembers what the mind folds I trace backwards through silhouettes, unbuttoned, a collisions against skin. Why am I a blur, smeared and unclear, A bouquet crawling with silent pests got abandoned after the show no one asked to hear. I mouth apologies to no one, to everyone. I never openly talked abt what happened to me when I was 19, and I still don't think I can and am not going to prob till the day I die. But recently whenever I thought abt this I get extremely upset and feeling a lot of shame. I think from where I grew up, sex has always been something women can't enjoy or openly talk abt, other wise you are a slut family disgrace. there're almost no modern poem or songs ...
