it was the summer?i learned regret and
how to rise above it?with august heat
clinging like too quickly smoked cigarettes
and the boy held closer than intended??
with his paper doll kisses that burn burn.
>my heart?could use a lesson from my corpse
at this point, but only knew frozen defense
protection from a warm breeze, heat that clings
and boys who hold on tighter. (who taught me
freeze on my teeth like i wasn’t numb already).
the one who loves his, loves with his body?
and his hollow inside, whose lies echo
in the middle of the night where my whispers
call back to me (but i was molly bloom;
my voice was the one that comforted me)
we were well-practiced at self-distancing
and i am convinced it's natural to want this?
and to hate him at the same time?(pick the
most detestable and forgettable
when you only want disposable love)??
picking flowers in the fields you tell me
i am beautiful. the last boy who said that
left me, so i snuff your words with my breath.
(pick the one?who knows tan lines, neck lines and
hair knots, not middle name or birthday).
i remember you picking me up? from
my parents house where you sweet talk my mother
i'm the only one embarrassed. it's enough
for the three of us. that day, i decide
to always walk the block to your house.
you were the doorstop before the threshold
too used to slammed doors every time you opened
your mouth to spit out words like "love."?
what normally gets you in sends me on
pavement runs: barefoot, carrying clothes.
you laugh and watch me go: a little joke
we keep like hands held under the table
like promises kept in safety nets, so
there are no hard feelings when this falls through
because come autumn, this will all fall through.
your mouth to spit out words like "love."?
what normally gets you in sends me on
pavement runs: barefoot, carrying clothes.
you laugh and watch me go: a little joke
we keep like hands held under the table
like promises kept in safety nets, so
there are no hard feelings when this falls through
because come autumn, this will all fall through.
that summer i slept in a twin-sized swamp
on top of the sheets that blanketed secrets
i was too embarrassed to confront and
too afraid to crawl back under, into
the space where i once held your attention.
but now i am not scared to admit that i
admire my calloused feet from the days
i would run away with a smile on
my face (too proud then to ever say how
my block of ice still beat inside me).
