by Tianna G. Hansen
hip bones become butter beneath your tongue // melted, salty
veins are rope lassoed to the rhythm of my // heartbeat //
i mold to the contour of your hands // whipped sugar & cream
candy floss between your teeth // inhaled, sweet
what will remain once you’ve had your fill —
a hungering, vacant hole where
you used to // desire me.
Tianna G. Hansen has been writing her whole life. She believes there is always light to be found in the darkest moments, and founded a small press and lit mag Rhythm & Bones (rhythmnbone.com), focused on the idea of turning trauma into art. Find more of her work at creativetianna.com or follow her on Twitter @tiannag92, IG @tgghansen24, FB @tiannaghansen.
(And make sure to read about Tianna’s rebel heart and strength. – Elephants Never)