“I am hoping
To hang your head

On my wall
In shame-“

I let my body become breathless,
A battered rag doll
Willingly letting
The life
Slowly trickle out of my nose
Drip down my lips
And vanish
Into the musty air.

“I want to wear

Your smile on my sleeve
And break

Your heart like a horse
Or it’s leg.”

I have a small life,
It only stretches a span
Of about five miles.
My bed
To my job.
It used to go on
For hours
And find you
In your darkest moments.
I would travel on grungy
Public transportation
Just for your
Sunshine smile.

“I want to call you thine

To tattoo mercy
Along my knuckles.”

Tattoo mercy
Across my neck,
Plead for the life giving
Powers
Of my own throat
As I feel the oxygen drain from me
In all too familiar
Panic.

“I hope

To have you forgotten
By noon.”

You were my
Most consistent
Safe place.
I wanted to cradle your dreams
And worries in my arms
And restore your love of life.
I love you.
You were the first person
I could look at
And know that my love for you
Could cause a moon landing.
And I never want
To forget that feeling.
I go back to it
In the middle of the night
When I feel incapable
Of doing good.

But you’re trying to break my heart.

And that will not stand.

Linoleum floors,
And water damaged ceilings.
Second hand clothes
Riddled with an array of allergies
To choose from.

When I was a young girl,
I was very firmly warned
That no good and godly man
Would want a woman
Who was
“Damaged goods.”

The isles of plates and cups
Look like a glass castle.
A shining fortress
Of colorful china
And distorted reflections.
Chipped,
And worn paint,
Or just out of style.

No one wants a woman
Who’s been used.
Your body is not your own,
It belongs to your future husband.
At least
That’s what they told me.

Leather jackets
That smell like cigarettes,
Boots with scuffs,
And faded curtains.
Always inspect CDs before you buy them.
An army of electronics
Lined against the wall.

Behave with a man
As if your future spouses
Were in the room with you.
Don’t touch each other too much,
It leads to
“Other things.”

Obsolete books
Colored on
And ripped.
A used book tells more than one story,
The one written out in ink,
And the history
Of the hands that have held it.

Hold a flower
In the palm of your hand,
Now crush it.
It will never be
The same again.
That’s how it is
With your virginity.

Dolls with faded faces,
Aged and off colored plastic.
Suspiciously sticky children’s toys
From the eighty’s.

I think I belong here,
I’m used.

First,
Second,
Third
Hand.

But I love thrift store finds.

I slammed the dishes around
The sunlit sink,
Covered in bubbles
Up to my elbows.
“I can’t believe he did that,”
I sighed
As I angrily scrubbed muffin tins.

My boss looked up from dicing
Sweet colorful peppers
And pushed her glasses
Up the bridge of her nose.
“Well, at least now you know you made the right decision,”
She replied.

I turned around
And leaned against the stainless steal counter,
A customer entering the store
Caught my eye.
“I hadn’t thought of that... you’re right.”

“I like to rev my engine at the top of this hill,”
He said.
You would’ve said
‘Hey look, someone with no ****.’
He has a big truck,
And a doofy smile,
You have a sleek little car,
And a goofy laugh.

We rode around for hours
Just talking.
That’s not an unfamiliar concept to me.

He pulled over
And pulled me close,
And I remembered when you pulled over
And told me to get out
And look up,
Up,
Up,
At the stars.

“You know,
You help me,
I help you.
You said you were going crazy.”
In the back of my head
I heard your voice say
‘He just wants to get into your pants.’
Which I wanted to yell I’m okay with.

“It feels so good, I don’t want it to stop,” he moaned.
You don’t moan,
And I recall you saying
‘You’re not good at handjobs.’

I’m trying to suppress
Your voice.
It has a say in everything I do.
In every man
There’s comparison
To you.
In every kiss,
Every touch,
Every lonely night...
You’re hiding,
And giving your opinion
From the sidelines.

The room in starlight bathed
My body unscathed
Swimming indoors
sheets are shores

Wash over me like the tide
for I don't sleep at night
Swimming indoors
where it always pours

Moon reflection
on my cushion
Swimming indoors
following ancient lores

Diving deep to find
an Atlantis on my mind
Swimming indoors
til reaching the dream's source