every time
I drive away from you
with your scent lingering on my
clothes and skin, a tease,

I feel the smile creep up involuntarily

instantly regretting that I could feel
any amount of happiness from you

I loathe your power for a moment
shaking your perfect kiss out of my mind
like a wet dog shakes dry

I cannot think that we might be
happy because in a matter of a split second
it will fall apart

the pedestal
on which he rests
remains across the lakes
atop the fruited plains
of the midwest

he is unwilling to share
with the East Coast brat;
the blonde who has made
a home in my chest

he complains, yet makes no push
to topple the boy over
and take over the nest

I ask myself now:
hundreds of miles over
four blurry years
what fight is left?

A late July heat
can drive two teenagers
crazy

In the summer of 2009
when there is nothing to do
but lie around and whine

What better thing to try
than to envelope the warmth
into each other?

To forget about the problems
that five years from then
won’t matter

you have been tainted by the
poison of another woman's
touch

before was the
sweet taste of ****** on your
tongue

the way you felt was
innocent as you
extended trust.

all I sense when you are in me now is
another brown-haired girl
feeling you,


hazy marijuana smoke
spewing from her open
mouth.

I cannot deal with
excessive positivity
when I am the most
Negative Nancy
of the 21st Century

you telling me you love me
through our glass phone screens
is only temporary relief
from the distance between.

the truth is you will always be
Ivy League;
I merely dream
of getting to you.

the scent of summer,wafting in
(consisting of freshly mowed
grass and warmth)
tempts me to think of you:
ridiculous how we met
where we've been

but my hopes are High
(mostly)that the coming season will provide
better opportunities:for people who won't
ruin my life
(try to ruin my;life) again

it's entirely.your fault;
you put my heart away
(for no good reason)
you're one of every who
hates getting hurt
(yet never those who get hurt,
hurt others)
and the man,you,(who performed the hurt)
doesn't deserve
to have another woman's taste:
on the tip of his tongue