Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.

Dear Daddy,
Do you know what these men say to me?

With their
eyes and their mouths
when I walk on the street.

With a grin and a nod
and a look up and down.
A wink and a kiss
and a cat call heard from downtown.

With my skirt short
and my top
low,
It’s a cold world daddy
and no
doesn’t mean no.

Daddy do you know
how these men look at me?

Like I’m a piece of meat
strutting down the street?
With my head buds in
and my favorite song on.

I’m asking for it Daddy,
I’m in the wrong.

Do you know how it feels
not to wear what I like?

To walk a little faster
when I’m alone at night?

Daddy the world is my predator
and I am it's doe,
Daddy what happens
when I can’t say no?

Mercy, Almighty King;
Though arteries be congealing,
America's going a'mealing.

cold sweats
heart pounding
wide awake
early morning
can't sleep

you decide
these nightmares need to end.

but your subconscious
disagrees
in its own
subtle-as-a-kick-in-the-teeth
sort of way.

tomorrow is another day,
another nightmare
to wake up from.

in class they all stare at you
because aren't you a little too
poor
to be in college?

that's when you wake up
and that's when you decide
these nightmares need to end
but dreams weren't meant for
dropouts
like you

so tomorrow it's back
to the

cold sweats
heart pounding
wide awake
early morning
can't sleep
won't sleep
ever again.

when you last saw me
i was a pretty carcass
wasn't i?

painted up for the funeral, you were
my pallbearer and up the stairs
you took me. i sat on your
shoulders because no
one else came to
my funeral.
just you
and
i.

when you last saw me
i was a pretty carcass,
covered in dirt and worms
and decomposing leaves.

in your arms you took me, your tears
washing the grime from my pale,
dead face. i remember how
it felt to watch you cry
for the first time and
i wished i was still
alive to tell you
not to. It was
just you
and
i.

when you last saw me,
i was a pretty carcass.
your love died with me that day.
and when you last saw me,
i was only a carcass
you wanted desperately to love.

Praying undue forgiveness, I am numbed to fetal
in experience, birthed by prosaic desperation
to fathom life, or death, in this pill: Prozac
succubus, an offering of soothing bliss
too distant, quivering, to reach,
motherless fawn, stumbling
to my knees repenting
regrets repeatedly,
muttering God,
unheard,
alone.

roaming the streets up late at night,
we kept walking even if its dark.
just followed what feels right,
even if we didn't know where to go.

i remember we're laughing
romanticizing the years,
falling in love and getting drunk,
now im 18 and im terrified.

uncertain about the future
as we long for summer to come back
spent our time distracting ourselves
because we can't be kids again

Louder than me
He sat in your seat
The pasta was better
Communication more clear
But I still want to puke all the time
I’m no better, wish I was
I actually am it just feels pointless and it’s easy
To cave