three pregnant women visited me in my sleep. they were standing near my bed, with different objects in each of their hands. the first one, young and vivid, with golden hair and blue eyes that could only compare to the summer sky, raised her hand and spoke to me. she said, as she handed me whatever she was holding: "this compass is the sum of all the places you've been and you will never see it turn itself to reveal the faces of the people you've met there". a golden compass fell into my chest as I opened my eyes, scared. then, she grabbed my hand and made me touch her belly. quickly, she stepped aside and the second woman got closer to me. her skin showed marks, not scars, but like, those marks you get in your face when you wake up and you've been sleeping in a wrong position and your pillow gets drawn all over your face. her hair was short and her eyes were green. she spoke to me and told me: "whatever I have here, it's not meant for you to use, this is a gift for whoever you are not today, and probably will never be". she opened her hands upon me and a tiny mirror fell upon me. she then grabbed my hand and made me touch her belly. I could feel her belly button popping out and it was kinda gross. she silently stepped aside but the third one never moved. she leaned her head to one side. her hair was beautiful. it was full of curls that looked like autumn leaves twisting in the wind. but she just stood there, looking at me, and cried. I started crying too, as she opened her hand and dropped a tiny silver figure of a cat. I tried to get up but my chest seemed to weight a ton. I suddenly got swallowed into what I like to think was another dream I can't remember, but I couldn't feel sadness anymore. and though I couldn't say a single word, I know by heart those were the mothers I could've had. I was there, in different versions and different meanings of the same one I am now, but I couldn't see that. the third one was crying. not because she was sad, but because she knew. after twenty four years I've finally realized it is not me who matters, and it is not what hurts me that actually hurts, but it is who I am not. and all of the things that aren't there.

Lady Luck, what a dime
Hair of gold and legs so fine
Try to **** her, she's got nine lives
A bottle of poison and a rack of knives
They say out she comes when the moon is full
In robes of silver and diamonds fill her skull
Eyes like rubys that burn to the core
And a body like an oasis, you'll beg for more
She kills and steals and doesn't think twice
Never gets caught, illusive as night
No blood, just red wine, heart cold as ice
Skin so pale the stars cry
Whatever she wants, whatever she needs
Seems to come raining down in baskets with beads
Ribbons and gems and shiny things
Men pass out at her porcelain feet
Strings of pearls on her ankles and rings on her toes
Wherever she stops, nobody knows
A pirate disguised by her charm, what a queen
Beware Lady Luck, for she lurks in the steam

It’s been considered—
maybe I wasn't meant
to be
what you'd call
“ladylike.”

Sure, the word—
it sounds pleasant enough—
the way it rolls off the tongue
with its pale pink sound
& its clean contours that
kiss the corners of the mouth
just so.

What girl
wouldn't want to be something
that pleasurable
to sound out?

No.

I don’t want to be something
so subtle.

I want to be the word
that's craggy and creased—
the word
that bites so hard
on its speaker's lip,
all other syllables
slip the mind
& they're left
with only mine.

I want to be the word
you remember
weeks later,
& silently repeat to yourself
when you’re alone with your thoughts—
the word
that feels so satisfying to say,
it's unable to be muted.

Yeah.

“Ladylike” won’t hold a candle
to that word
when I happen to find it.

The crickets and the cars
And the heat of the stars
Running down the street
Hopping the bars
A trap beat
Rustling sheets
Wherever you may be
Rollin windows down as we speed around
Kendrick and Kesha and ATL
Mac and Butch Walker and Frank's Golden Girl
The smell of gasoline
Clink of rings on my feet
When they scream at us to get out of the street
Kisses and moans and gimme more's
Cash register chimes cause I bought one to match yours
Cryin in the bathroom and baby got sick
When I gotta fall asleep
That does the trick

My dress your shirt all on the floor
From the bedroom to the door
Pants belt bra, but wait there's more
Skater boy hit it dont quit it I'm addicted
I need it more and more and more
Morphine ****** baby you name it
Ill be your ***** devil girl, you just gotta say it
Hit it real hard, leave a mark, no playin
Whatever's in your skin keeps me comin and stayin
Mmm, mhm, just like that
Till all the sheets rip and the bed frame cracks
And the floor starts to shake and the walls fall back
Jesus Christ baby where'd you learn to do that