You were as temporary
as the incendiary
summer heat
that baked our skin to golden brown
& sent us seeking shade
to simmer down.

You were as temporary
as the indulgence of our inner child,
time spent sprawled out in our sheets
watching Saturday cartoons
without a care or central air,
entangled in our underwear.

You were as temporary
as the cherry
popsicle stains melted into my skin
with our summer sin.
90°.
Sticky & sweet.

I remember pretending
we were wearing lipstick
or were deranged carnies
on the run.

We laughed at our absurdity,
drunk on our fun,
composing insane scenarios
to shake up the inane existence
of a small town Midwest summer,
languid with little other entertainment.

I'd wield an empty wooden stick
& read one-liners from the side of it.

You were as temporary
as the tattoos we got together
at the dusty county fair
that were sure to wear away
with sweat & sultry August air.  

You were my summer love affair.

Ten,
He casts his eyes down quickly,
but not before you catch
the soft liquid-gold
turn to solid ice.

Nine,
Taste the bitter apology on
your quivering lip.
Bite down.
Let it bleed.
Just don't let him see you
fall apart.

Eight,
Pick up a book
and feign indifference,
while he does the same.
Do not cry.
Do not speak.
Do not let him see
how much he is hurting you.

Seven,
glance up at him,
and try to catch his eye.
Wonder for the hundredth time
what you did wrong.

Six,
Hang up
When you begin to dig
your nails into the flesh of your hands.
Find the old orange lighter
you save for birthday candles.
Let the flames lick across your skin in brilliant color.
Anything to stay warm.

Five,
Count the seconds by the chattering of your teeth.
Wrap your frail arms around your trembling torso.

Four,
Stare back at the tear-streaked face in the mirror.
Hypnotized by blood shot eyes
and scorched veins.

Three,
Grip the dull blade,
in your mangled hand.
Paint poetry
in scarlet ink.
Between pieces of broken skin.

Two,
Squirm at the discomfort
of lacerated wrists.
Feel the hatred metastasize,
for every place he looked at you
in disgust.

One,
Remember the time
you told him
you hate the cold.

What's the point
Of living in a 600,000 dollar home
When you spend 40 hours a week
In an office

And two hours watching the television every night

I don't get Americans
Baby boomers especially

Forever saving for the future
They have to have it all
Never really seeing the present

Strange these people

This way is all wrong
Completely and totally wrong

They sacrifice their health
And drink coffee
Their whole lives
And take these pills

And it is all just *******

I will live frugally
And maybe one day buy an RV
And drive around the country

I hate the fact that you and I exist
But we don't
I hate feeling like a zebra
In this grey world
I hate feeling like Atlas
The weight of the world on my shoulders
My mild psychosis
Caused by my emotions
Driving everyone else crazy
Wishing I could end the world
With me in it
I hate seeing happiness
Something I feel I'm not worthy of
I hate feeling the wind
How it boasts of its freedom
I hate the mountains' pride
Higher than anything
I hate the sea
Describing its power
Its dignity
I hate how I'm arrogant
Due to lack of confidence
I hate how I'm wild
Due to lack of courage
I hate how I'm me
Due to how little i'm me.

Let's steal my father's car
even though I don't have my license yet
even though you're not allowed to drive in this country.
Let's run away to a place
where your parents aren't fighting
where your mother is healthy
where my family isn't toxic
where I'm not burdened with crushing responsibilities.
Let's roam endlessly under the stars
with only the moon to keep us company;
let's escape to a place
where the cops won't pull us over
where only you and I will matter;
let's escape to a time
when you and I can happen.
Let's drive away to a place
where our laughter will resonate
for miles around;
where your face will bathe in starlight;
where we can be the only lovers left alive in the galaxy;
where your soft lips can touch mine again;
where your fingers can draw patterns all over my skin
with invisible paint;
where we can fight until we make out:
your lips
my hips
your hands
my hands;
let's run away to a place
where nothing else matters;
to a time
when we can forget about the world.
Let's escape and paint the world anew
in screaming color,
in bright lights,
in loud sounds;
let's leave all fears behind
because you've been hurt
and I've been hurt
but I've had enough of being wary,
I've had enough of guarding myself.

Let's steal my father's car
and run away together
to a time and place
when and where together exists.

I'm sick and tired of this pride,
Of building walls around us,
I don't believe in
amori vincit omnia
but maybe I can warm your heart up
and you can stitch my scars up
and maybe this will be enough.

what a beautifully subjective word

it is nice, to spend your precious time with those who don't deserve it

it is polite, to laugh off their lecherous looks with a swat on the arm

it is obligatory, to pleasure the boy who has taken an interest in you

when did nice become so ominous?

i owe you nothing.

More and more I’ve been thinking about how you ruined me. Skinny little girl arms and legs and tummies and chests, being touched for the first time, just a little-girl-playing-big with a boy-who-was-already-big. I peeled off layer after layer until I lay in front of you, exposed, fighting the urge to cover myself with my hands because it was you, because I trusted you, more than I’ve ever trusted another person. I would have let you lead me into a burning building.

I always heard that there’s nothing like your first love. I never quite understood until recently. There was nothing like my first love because I put all of myself into it, into you, pressing myself into your hands, trusting that you would take care of me.

I didn’t know, until I was in another boy’s bed years later, him kissing up and down my neck, me feeling the first awful tickle of panic in my chest. I didn’t know, until he told me that he loved me, til I felt every muscle in my body tense up like I had run into a ******* war zone.

I didn’t know. I’ve broken up with every single boy since you. I didn’t know. I haven’t been above to love any of them right because of you. Because you ruined me.

There’s nothing like your first love, they said. And they were right. It’s been four years and I’m still trying to pry my heart out of his filthy hands.

You only wanted a taste of my brown sugar skin, to kiss my lips that are made from all my sins, you never wanted to dance with me, only wanted to **** the sweetness straight from my veins, your tongue was quick, painted me a new horizon, made me feel like my brown skinned body was worth something to you, until you stopped, until I wasn't worth something to you, you've ****** the sweetness from me, my heart no longer beats like a drum, I lost myself inside of your watercolor eyes, I'm still trying to find my way out.