Dirt

He tells my feet
he loves them
He even kisses my toes
In broken blisters
he buries his face
sighs and traces
hardened skin I hide and hate
But one word soft against it
and suddenly
I’m great

We spend weekends outside
of showers
A waste of time and water
We’d rather run barefoot
chase rivers
make dinners
and leave the dishes
Being clean takes hours
and we’ve only got
these moments before
Monday makes us

On Thursday I reach
for the razor
then cut
it from my routine
Remembering
how he put
his hands around
my prickly thighs
Right before he told me
how much he wants me

Dirty