She was introduced to
shit, damn, hell, & fuck
through mutual friends in the street.

They quickly became 
her safe words, 
her shelter in place words,
for all manner of situations.

Her slick, quick-witted use of 
shit, damn, hell, & fuck got
her out of many a fight.

Her perfected use of 
shit, damn, hell, & fuck 
allowed her to revel in the highs,
and mask the lows, of living & loving.

She learned to say shit with just 
the right amount of left lip curl 
so it would roll off of her tongue,
and linger, in a four-second hold; 

She said damn out of frustration & fear, 
which was evident by her facial twitch, 
clenched fists, and the vibration of her 
upper body with the wave of her voice;

She said hell in utter disbelief 
with an arch of her right brow, 
and an ever so slight forward jerk of her head, 
which was preceded by ‘what the;’

Fuck was said in anger & bitterness:
eyes dilated, arms swung here & there, 
nostrils flared, and once bitch was added to 
the mix, it was on and poppin’.

Her dependency on 
shit, damn, hell, & fuck
were socially debilitating,
and limited her ability to thrive.

Shit, damn, hell, & fuck
concealed a multitude of struggles, 
and over time, her safe words, 
her shelter in place words,
left a foul taste in her mouth 
and imprinted a permanent scowl 
across her once youthful glow.