there was never any romance because there was none in you to give
your mind bubbling up with the backs of naked girls
lying in beds
that you will never have
but you had this one
and oh,
how i wish you hadn't.

wonder at the innocence of the year before
feel tired of complaining about it
feel nothing when the anniversaries of your eventual demise begin to unfold
ungently
ripping the lace and dirtying the satin

feel like this is just the way the world turns
and that you turned with it
turned from everything you learned
turned to all the horrible
disgusting **** that you knew was in you from the beginning.

just let it happen
just let it let loose
stop trying to stop it
stop crying after ***
don't you want it by now?

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
it was the worst best of times

please don't tell me you'll never lie
everyone lies.
big, small, all-encompassing...
somehow we lie

with our bodies, with our voices, with our emotions
we all lie
it's alright
just don't
tell me
that you
don't

dream that one day daddy will let go.
that he will stop wearing his wedding band and appealing to god
for the restoration of our family.

that family is gone.
we must build a new, smaller one now.
**** mom.

father,
rebuild something else
pray for something else
pray to get past all the **** she put us through
so we can stop looking behind us at the stagnant past
and instead look to make our future better
the part we can actually control.

please,
please...stop praying, dad.
no one is listening.

little rock clinging to long grass.
holding each other on the couch,
seeking solace.

rain pattering outside
wet mineral air drifting through the porch screen.

how can we compensate
for the evil we both committed?
how to remedy
the craters that we have conjoined
in our chests?

searching for the truth in the ache
pondering the wonder of the gaping facade that lies ahead
crying on the couch.
holding
hoping
crying

small raindrops hitting my cheeks instead of tears
leaning against you in the spring night time...

solace.

virginity lost,
virginity found.

solace.

i ache for the dimly lit late night cafes with wine bottles on the walls
and foamy brown cappuccinos on the tables.
i lust after the nameless, elegant dishes
and the martinis
and the sophistication.

you are wendy's at midnight
a chain restaurant on our anniversary.
practicality.

i want mindless rewards without guilt.
i want cafes and restaurants no one outside of this town has heard of
i want to be what i am:
twenty years old
fresh off the french coffee press
ready to sweep my way through all the archetypes i have observed longingly.


you're seven years too late, darling.

cement box of aching torture
housing another worst year of my life

airtight vacuum seal my pain
so i never forget

ground into the glossy walls
built on the bones of other pulsating, tired freaks.