With your tampon in place
I’ll still give you head
and if that isn’t love
then I don’t know what is

Still, you seem so distracted
and so far away
but when I ask you, “What’s wrong?”
You say, “Nothing,” and smile

but your smile is a fin
that protrudes from the water
an ominous indication
of what lurks underneath

My ship starts to sink
as I’m gauging my wounds
and the smallest of cuts
will leave scent trails for miles

Now I’m in over my head
in the murkiest water
but I will try to stay calm
until you brush past my leg