Why call it making love

if that is not what we are doing?

Why bother to cover up

your toxic masculinity?

I am unraveling. 

Since you cannot fix me,

and you refuse to change, 

I will pull at your strands to

have you hurt half as bad.

You are synthetic; polyester.

I am natural, made of cotton.

Though I may be soft, I am also durable.

I am more absorbent than you. I will weave my 

loose threads into something new you will not be able to use.