he looks so good
sweat dripping
like water on
honeydew.

i want
to lick it
off and
devour him
from within.

i want
to be the stuff
that makes up
his dreams.

i want
to be the one
that makes him
roll his eyes back
and scream.

he'd be daddy
and i'd be
his bad baby.

or just maybe
i'd settle for
a candlelight
date.

or something stupid
like going fishing,
he'd hook the bate.

chewing on my lip
without looking up,
"whatever it is
you want to do,
i wouldn't mind
doing it with you"
I would whisper
to the point he
couldn't hear
me hardly.

would he be
the first in a while
to touch my mind
and know my soul
before my body?

and who knows
at the end of the night
maybe a peck
on the cheek.

with him,
would life still
seem to be
so bleak?

faith
like
the
northern red
oak tree
has
planted
deep roots
inside of me

I like using glue when I am sad.
I like painting my arms with the white, sticky substance.
I like letting it dry.
I like seeing the white turn clear.
I like feeling how hard and sure my arms feel when they are coated in this shield.
I like touching how it wrinkles when I move my arms.
I like tugging it off like dead skin.
I like ripping off large pieces at a time.
I like collecting the scraps I pull off in a pile.
I like pretending that I'm peeling off every flaw of mine.
I like acting as if, when I'm done removing it, everything will be better.
I like noticing how difficult it is to grab onto the dried glue.
I like how it pains to remove it.
I like how red my arms are.
I like using glue when I am sad.
Because sometimes removing sadness does hurt.