a rare death.
a year and a half old child
smothering in the wallpaper
burning in the bright lights
wise to the curve of her frame
and another's.

a year and a half old teenager
smoking disobedience in cold bedrooms
aching fists with hearts beating in them
bloodied kneecaps
and discarded underthings.

a year and a half old adult
thighs that bled
welcoming her into womanhood
ringed fingers leading her through the commonplace gates
yanking her by her wrists forward.

a rare death.
a child,
a teenager,
an adult,
a starcrossed lover
cursed with the blood of mother
losing memories like they are guitar picks
or socks
or cherished toys.
losing them because they are important
or needed
or wanted
losing them because growing up is a loss
losing them because loss means you're no longer a loser...

losing them because the memory is too dear to hold onto.

a rare death
of a very commonplace life
guided through a very commonplace gate
by a very commonplace boy
who bestowed upon her
graciously
her un-
virginity.

i suddenly long to forget nights.

chasing white pills down the tangle of my throat,
i am disturbed to remember frantic dreams in the waking moments.

i begin to fear that the air is making me sick
in this closed off room where i sleep and dream
where my neck aches and my stomach burns
where he laid the night he touched the string that would undo everything
that kept me standing.

i want the peace that i felt in the white slab of the rubber gloved doctor's room
beeping gently
looking to see what burned
inside of me

they didn't find it

never loved a boy.
the seventeen yearolds ask me what the last one was
I don't know.

I don't love this one either.
do I love anyone?
truly?

you haven't known me long enough to have the privilege of being rude to me
at least put a label on it before you get offended when I put down your demands for attention
like I owe you my time and affection
if there is anything I've learned over the past year and a half
it's that I don't owe anyone anything

so cool your jets *******
this *** isn't yours yet.

lips still red from the hungry mouth of another boy,
examine your face and wonder what they see.
taste of another boy on your breath
his scent in your hair -
makes me feel like i'm watching what's happening from somewhere else.

it was pretty fast.
but not fast like the last time
there's a new sheriff in town that can't be bought for ear kisses
or rough hands down the back of her pants
this time i said no
and he
stopped.
and that is what i deserve.
not what you did to me.

separating the sheep from the goats with a religious eye,
i protect me now.
not your fragile ego.

someone else in the world thinks i am wonderful enough to kiss.

broken arms
do you harm
do your worst i'm
heaven cursed
heaven cursed

on the bright side i
fall in line with
other faces
screaming dots
on the bright side i
find my place in
darkened corners
hiding spots

broken arms
do you harm
do your worst i'm
heaven cursed
heaven cursed
do your worst.