Red toes peak out from peep-toe laced Sperries,
heels clicking the hard-tiled floor of the dance room.
The black swan stared back from its home within her mirror,
red toes peak out from peep-toe laced Sperries.
She twirled and twirled, the swan did the same.
Each day the swan came to play, chipping the polish with every dance,
until the red toes were chipped and nearly gone.

But are not the scandalous rumors,
the jealous lovers,
and inglorious *******,
born of passion?

I like girls.
Theyre soft and flush, with eyes bright like diamonds.
Theyre sweet and kind, with lips the color of roses.
I like girls.
but the girls, don't like me.
Because i'm a girl too.

But she was innocent like rain,
and you came with your thunder,
shaking her core.

"you're such a good girl."

Sour whiskey breath spread against my cheek.

"do you want this?"

I shook my head, trying to breath, to scream the words no! I don't!

"yes, you do, my good girl"

no, I don't!

"will you be my good girl?"

I promise I will be your good girl, I promise, just please don't do it again.

"you're my good girl."

*daddy, please stop

I called her Duchess.
and I called the other one Sweet.
The third was too dry, so I called her Meat.
Three different rooms, they wasted the space,
i brought them food, and sometimes things with lace.
I gave them purpose, I loved those *****.
without me, they'd be on the street unloved.
I love them
they love me
**then why did they leave

They watched me carefully,
fluttering in my cage, pointing at my hair.
"how fierce" said the old man with the crooked teeth.
I pressed my clawed hands against the solid bars,
widening my yellow eyes.
"no, not fierce." said the old woman with the cane.
Her leather face turned upwards, smiling,
the skin, stretching like it had not practiced that action,
in a very long time.
"how free."

Take pictures, I’ll smile for you,
Pose my hands, I’ll bow for you,
Move my lips, I’ll sing for you.
..
…
Hit my ***, I’ll wince for you,
Squeeze my breast, I’ll gasp for you,
Punch my stomach, I’ll cry for you,
Sell my body, I'll die for you.

she was sick,
but not in the way you'd except,
no, she was sick in a way that she'd come
to regret.

I always thought boys were the bees knees. That I'd fall in love with one, and marry one and eventually he'd give me little babies.
so when the pretty blonde with the plastic blue bangle bracelets waved and smiled at me, and my stomach flipped, I was so confused.
my mouth went dry, desert dry, and my hands shook, and all I wanted to do was taste her strawberry chap stick.

Once I let my Milky Way dance with your Jupiter,
I was called a ****.
But the story that you told was as twisted as your brain.
You pried open my milkyway, and forced your Jupiter deep within me.
I gasped and cried and fought and then
I
Gave
Up
I was tainted.
I was broken.
And now I was full of hate, but not for you.
I hated the god that let this happen.
I hated the school that called me a *****.
I hated each little pill as I swallowed it down,
Because I hated myself.
More
Then
I
Hated
**you.

She stuffed up her bra, puckered her lips,
massaging the ache that came from her new hips.
Her stomach had been tucked, her ***** uplifted,
her calves replaced with something unfitted.
Hey eyebrows drawn on, her contacts unblinking,
"This is my new face", she thought without thinking.

I was busy at work,
scrubbing the lipstick stains from china coffee mugs,
TLC replying in my head,
when I heard a man clear his throat.
His overly exposed eyes did not scare me,
nor did his wide but bruised hands.
What scared me was one,
simple
sentence.
"excuse me miss, I just wanted to say you look beautiful today"
"thank you"
I should've been more polite,
and I do apologize for that,
but I am not beautiful.

I measured what you could do with me,
what I thought you could do,
and I was right,
for most of it was true.
I practiced my math,
made a's and a's and b's,
I calculated your words,
tried sifting through their meaning,
I typed them up,
but my heart was just dreaming.
I practiced my grammar,
to tell you how I felt,
but you had already left.
I do my math now,
but I make c's and c's and f's.

From the moment I felt you in my 17 year old belly, I knew I would **** you.
Even though I loved you.
I knew I would **** your innocent face,
your shapeless hands,
your unknown soul,
and I knew from the moment i felt the fluorescent lights beam down on my face,
that I was making a mistake.

I kissed sweaty, slightly hair-touched lips
And they felt right.
So when I kissed honey-lemon lips
And found that they felt better,
You can imagine my surprise.

We were so right for each other,
like the sun
and the
moon,
but our timing was off,
and the sun had to rise too soon.

She was awfully pretty, and it felt awfully right,
but she was a bird, and he was nothing more then a kite.

love will never be forever, feelings are just like the weather, January to December, do you want to be a member? Lonely hearts club,* **do you want to be with, somebody like me, oh?

A part of me feels like she has forgotten,
what its like to want a boy
maybe she remembers but feels its unimportant.
Or maybe she really did forget the flush of crimson warmth that
stained her cheeks when my father asked her out for the second time.
Or the way her stomach became knots and her sense putty when he kissed her cheek.
she said I can't date him
but she doesn't understand,
because a part of her has forgotten.

Because when you held my hand and said I was pretty I thought I loved you,
and when you kissed my neck and spread my young legs I thought I loved you,
but when I told the nurse that I had fallen down the stairs a third time, I realized I didn't love you.
I just thought I did, like I thought I loved history class when i really preferred science.
and you, you thought you loved me but really you loved the way I withered underneath you.
because finally someone other then you, was begging for mercy.

I know I messed with your heart,
I know my lies tore you apart,
but is it too late to say sorry?
Because I miss more then your lips,
I miss my hands on your hips.
Is it too late now?

Maybe she laughs,
Maybe she cries,
Maybe she cuts her wrists and thighs,
Maybe she’s happy,
Maybe she’s sad,
Maybe she can’t remember a time things were this bad.
Maybe she’s ok,
Maybe she’s not.
Maybe she doesn’t have a clear thought.
Maybe she laughs,
Maybe she cries,
Or maybe she’s really just dying inside.

I enjoy being touched.
Not in the sense of *******.
Or lust.

But in the way of true innocence.

I crave affection.
Even if I cannot give it.
Even if it is without being physical,
A smile changes my day.

But the knowledge would be nice.

To know
That I alone
Can be loved by him?
Ah, what a joy.

But I can’t.

I flinch at touch,
I squirm during hugs,
I shy away from lips.

But the knowledge would be nice.