the art of growing

i felt beautiful until the age of twelve
when my body began to ripen like new fruit
and suddenly
the men looked at my newborn hips with salivating lips
the boys didn’t want to play tag at recess
they wanted to touch all the new
and unfamiliar parts of me
the parts i didn’t know how to wear
didn’t know how to carry
and tried to bury in my rib cage.

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