my history is an ocean

I drowned myself in history    
felt all my past lives crash    
over me in crushing waves    
and decided it would be okay    
to breathe it all in    
and choke on it    
   
You were more than a drop  
of rain in the ocean    
more than discarded bones    
lying on the sea floor    
your name and face    
unforgettable    
when other names    
and other faces now elude me    
   
I can't remember how many    
people have had their tongue  
in my mouth    
or how many men have seen  
the full nakedness of me    
and wanted to take me home    
complete with a cash bonus    
because in a past life    
I was almost that kind of girl  
   
But I can remember exactly how many    
people have pressed    
their tongue against my soul    
decided I tasted good    
and taken one too many bites  
because I've been a drug too  
   
Does it make you feel special    
to know you're one of them?    
   
Does it make you feel special    
to know you've tasted parts of me  
other people will never get to see?  
   
Don't be so base    
to presume I'm talking about sex    
that would be too easy    
   
Body count is just a number    
lovers: 9  
tongues in my mouth: more than 9
people who've seen me naked: easily a few hundred    
people who know the real me: 6    
   
I've been drowning for days    
inhaling this ocean in slow motion    
today I found air    
   
You don't kill me anymore