Are we not meant to be one?
Coming and dripping, every single month.
You send pain like Sharp cuts to my abdomen day and night
Causing me to turn and spin on the bed, with not even a little bit of comfort,
And when I miss you in the time meant for celibacy and chastity
Shame and disgrace ends up becoming my identity.
So in the end I can’t help but to, miss you.

Though as a growing teenager you
Colored my dress with different shades of you
Making the boy that I had...