I’m drinking a 40 on a ***** mattress wanting to carve his name into my leg. Drunk and wobbling in my 6 inch heels with daddy in mcdonalds. Giving him hickies with cheap ***** on my breath. He says I make him feel young again. I no longer put my menthol cigarettes out on my own heart. I wear blossom pink lipstick now and started brushing my hair. His mouth against mine feels like I tongued an electrical socket dipped in honey. His teeth are rotting out of his pretty skull but he tears through my star white skin like a rabid dog. Holding each other’s hands at random gas stations while he buys me alcohol to get rid of my bad thoughts that swell my brain. He takes care of me and pets my angel hair. Calling me his princess. Promising me slushies and gold teeth. He let me choke him in the parking lot along side the highway. I asked him if I could be his baby in the back of his trunk. He kissed my neck like a solar eclipse.

and i remember asking him,
angus, love, do you have to throw stones?
why not flowers? why not cotton wool?
and he replied as such:

thomas, you keep walking under ladders.
you never throw that salt.
how do you expect me to react?

i want away from the body.
i want out of the flesh.
how lovely it will be to know
that when i am separated,
i will not come back together.

i am not part of this vessel anymore.
i refuse the body my spirit.
i refuse the body my joy.
i refuse the body my willingness to live.

the organs are shutting down
and i won’t do anything about it.
the body is rotting
and i couldn’t care less.

my name has lost its meaning by now.
long ago did it fade away.
and did you know,
i let it go?
it was the only thing that made sense.
i needed something to run from.

Today I went to a
Red-Cross Baby-sitting course.
And we had to pair up with a
partner,
so the girl sitting next to me
turned to me to
practice
heimlich positioning.
So she stood up behind me and
put her arm across my chest and
we went through that position,
and then tried the other one,
where she put her arms around my stomach.
I could feel her breathing against my
ear, and her hair smelled
sweet and fresh and for the first time ever,
I wondered if my hair smelled like my
watermelon conditioner.
Then we switched,
and I put us through the
first position,
and I liked hugging her waist and
feeling her against me.
We sat down after that and learned about
CPR, and the instructor said we wouldn't be
practicing listening for breathing on
our partners,
and I let my mind wander to
a place where we could,
where she put her ear down
to my lips,
and her brown and blonde hair
fell over her ear and onto
my face.
I shook myself out of that
reverie,
and tried to pay attention,
but my eyes were drawn to her,
so I studied her instead.
An over-large grey sweatshirt,
with an icon of two green hockey sticks.
Blue denim shorts with
light blue lace on the ends,
black hightops,
and her socks were the same
hot pink as my own
shoelaces.
We practiced bandaging each other
up, so I wrapped
a strip of gauze around
her right forearm
and she did the same to my left.
And at the very end she rolled up her sleeves,
and I saw why she had me
wrap up her right arm.
Her left contained a
tile of faint scars,
criss-crossed like
spider-webs,
along her arm.

I remember
                    one night we got so drunk
         on our porch under blankets
     I systematically
covered
     in cigarette
                   ash.
              dusted off
and started again
                                                      I swear
that night, under twinkle lights
                               I always think cast such a warm
                    glow,
          and drip golden,

I swear,
               that night,
Our Passion
                      bubbled like the carbonation in our bellies
And I stopped myself
                                      from saying I Love You.

I remember
                     on Christmas,
we laid on the couch
                                     all day
and didn't see or speak
                               to anyone else.
Watched movie
                        after movie
                                  after movie
Until we both sunk    
into each other
so deep    
                                 half asleep with commitment
              to laziness
      Until I couldn't tell
where my body
                   ended and yours
           began
It was the best Christmas I've ever had.

And I remember
           how you looked
       the night you told me
                              it was over
My breath
                                            caught
and cracked
                             like
                                       ice
Stuck
           between esophagus
                                                 and lung
like our bathroom pipes.

You must have said
                                                  "ex-lover"
hal­f a dozen times or more.

I remember
                     thinking how inappropriate
it was that as I was listening to you
             And all I wanted was
to kiss the anger
             from your lips

I'm not sure why I ever stopped myself
             from loving you until
the very last second,
But I think you're right.
       I thought I couldn't deserve you
and instead of fighting,
                      I put my hands up,
threw down
           a white flag.
In the end, I didn't deserve you
Your quiet power,
                                  Your Moon-child Grace.
If nothing else,
                           this time,
I will learn
      from my mistakes.

to the people who have seen more blades in blood splattered bathroom sinks than those in shoulders, i say
you beautiful bright light; you founder of cities that celebrate; you body full of black and ivory piano keys—
cover yourself in positivity, stop cutting yourself and start cutting strings with those who make you, with those who look at you like you're something to be ashamed of.
somewhere, in a hospital, a woman dies while giving birth. you tell yourself that she is stronger than you, more deserving of a life, that you would want to change places.
don't.
death of others doesn't justify yours.
to the people who have seen more blades in blood splattered bathroom sinks than those in shoulders, i say
i’m sorry.