Red shoes

“Too much information”
you said
when I asked if anyone
had a tampon.
I beg to differ,
i’d say you don’t
have enough.
I haven’t told you
about lying on toilet floors
as endometriosis tears
my insides out.
I haven’t described
what it feels like
to hurtle through
waves of hormone mood swings
every month and still
keep the show on the road.
I haven’t explained
what it means to be
the one to grow a child
then push it out
through my vagina headfirst
to greet the world.
Have you seen what
my body has done,
achieved, made?
How fucking dare you
imply my monthly blood
is a shame-soaked secret?

But its ok.

If you don’t want
me to ask for
a tampon
maybe i’ll just
bleed on your shoes.