I Send my words hurling into your airway like swords
I bite off your tongue with every sharp response my body conjures
I have every witty comeback on speed dial to drill into your spine
The way your gays drilled into mine Pull old pennies from my pockets and throw them into your eyes
So you may not look at me the way you have for so long
You're are barely worth my pennies anyways
Here's a donation to your sorry ***
How about I grasp your neck, at just the right spot, just hard enough, to crush your voice box
To dwindle your air pipe just a little
So you cannot throw those trash comments at anyone else
How about I crack each of your fingers
Push them deep into your pockets
So that you can't feel anything without remembering me
You look at me like a mannequin in the window of your favorite retail store
You try yo put a price on what I'm worth
Maybe you can try me on
Throw me on the floor
Grab another
How about I tattoo my name on your chest
So that you cannot take off another piece of clothing
Take off another girl
Throw them in the floor
And not remember me
You will never throw me on the floor again
For I am permanently burned into your chest
How about I burn off each hair on your body
One at a time let it Sizzle down and sear the skin
Let each tiny poor feel the pain one at a time over and over and over again
Until you are left, raw

This
Is the day I speak back when you catcall me from across the street

Give me pretty
give me sunflower dancing
and petals turning
give me
coachella girls

give me pretty
give me layers of long see through skirts
and dresses
and Shaw's

give me pretty
give me dancers without teachers give me dancer with the wind as their muse

give me pretty
give me bouncing
give me everything's spinning
and turning
and lifting
and flying

give me flying
give me eyes closed
head back
arms stretched
fingers reaching

give me pretty
give me white linen pretty

For my birthday
you bought me my favorite book
That I already had
for your birthday
I bought you
the party

when you met the new boy at school
I told you he wasn't a good guy
you did not listen
when you told me
that the boy I'd known my whole life wasn't a good guy
I list without question

last night
you told me that your mother did not approve of my new haircut
this fact I already knew
last night you told me that you are uncomfortable and ashamed standing next to me
this fact I did not know

8 years ago when I met your parents
I was astonished and ashamed to stand next to them
for they pinned you to the wall like a dartboard
like a piece of meat for their game
they pushed pins in you of self doubt
of self hate
They said to you word I had never heard and adult say to a child before
if they could they would have cut into your flesh themselves
taking razors to every fat cell they did not like
8 years ago I stood up to them
to do what you never could
1 week ago even after you stoped listening to me I stood up to them
I tried as desperately as I could to take away their words

now
I stand here as your own personal dartboard
and because of that
I am now ashamed for you to call yourself my friend

I want to write a number poem
So,

1) the number of boys I fallen in love with

2) the number of houses you lived away from me

3) the years it's been since we broke up
I know this isn't how number poems work but let's skip,
to five 5

5) the months we were together

7) the days a week I think of you

how about 12)
the month you broke up with me

21) the day you broke up with me

22) what would have been our 6 months

183) the number of days we were together

1,000,000) the number of times I've come back to you

3,159,353,015) a number I will always remember for you

∞) the amount of people I tried to replace you with

∞) the number of times I've cried over you

∞) the number of people I've dragged into this

∞) the number of poems I've written you
letters I've written you
texts I've written you

∞) the number of hours we spent on the phone

∞) The number I hold in the pit of my stomach because I know it will never be us.

I distract myself
filling time slots and empty Windows
blaring nonsense instead of sitting in deafening silence

I beat at my own skull
pulling my eardrums out like string from my head
watch videos on tying nuces
anything,
to keep me busy
anything,
to keep me from doing the actual hanging

because right now
I'm sitting in silence,
and it's like a timer
it's like I'm just counting the seconds before I start crying
how long can I last?
1 minute,
2,
5
it's a waiting game
so instead
I distract myself
I watch TV
and YouTube
scroll through Instagram and Pinterest until I run out of pictures
I talk to myself
I beat myself until the thoughts go away
or... turn a blind eye,
until I'm so good at pretending that I can pretend they're not even there
until distraction is my second nature
because...
Don't you see?
Can you understand?
It's the only way I can stay alive

Imagine
blonde ponytail swinging from brunette root
angled in a straight line with her jaw bone
Pouted lips
and manicured eyelashes
layered in dark,
heavy fabrics
to counter her fair skin
and tall golden brown boots

Her hands are heavy
sharp.
Her eyes are tired
her jaw compresses.
Up and down
chewing on gum
she has a few red scars
scattered on her cheeks
like freckles

She's curved
not necessarily slouched
but more like
it's the only way to fit all of her into her chair
her legs are crossed
her earrings dangle
as if in mid-air

She's thinking,
constantly
thinking

Death knocks on the door with flowers
She does not answer

He knocks again
She blocks the door

He shouts her name
She buys a new houses

He comes again
And she builds a Panic Room

He shouts once more
And she locks the Panic door

He breaks into the house
And she blockades the hallway

He rattles the handle
She puts in ear plugs

He kicks and he screams
And she goes to sleep

Alone
In her chamber of solitude
With nothing
And no one
Left
Dreaming peacefully
As he breaks down the door