Heavenly Places

My feet are bare sinking into a carpet of lush green moss.

There is no liquid apple here to tempt me or replace inherited shame with an insatiable sexual appetite.

When he sees my unconscious body before him, like a birthday gift, already partially unwrapped, he does not continue to remove the paper.

He does not insert himself into my DNA where his wants will echo ad nauseam letting everyone see what a whore looks like.

Because it isn’t his birthday and this gift isn’t his to open.