Bone marrow

your skin, now
a muslin cloth.
you want to cut
it off.

your palms, almost always full.
with advice—
uninvited.

a victim,
you will be called—
pitied upon.

pause here.

ask yourself—

how someone
who’s spent their life
entirely, sucking on
bottles of corona
& marlboro lights

can have a hold on you?

your bone marrow—
powerful, gushing—
an endless sap of sugar

it’s such that the rancid mouth
of an abuser
could never
suck you dry.

Prachi Bhandutia majored in Creative Writing and Philosophy at the University of Hartford, Connecticut. She graduated with an honors degree and has immersed herself in the world of writing since then. Currently, Bhandutia works as a professional freelancer, creating content for SaaS and B2B brands.