Back in 2003 I found a piece of me
buried, like a shard of pottery, in the sandbox.
A Hot Wheel’s car, little rusted with one tire missing
that I used to shove in the little zippered flap
of my Powerpuff Girls backpack. Older, fifteen,
I carved another piece of me out and pasted it
to a vanilla letter, sliding the envelope through the slits
in his locker door, and I lost it. I’m not even sure he read it.
Nineteen, faded and little stolen, I threw another piece of me
into my mother’s grave. Plush petals, rosary beads, crystal
liquid drops infused with microscopic memories. I cut
myself in slivers and jammed uneven edges together
just to gusto the void, compact the space, walk solid.
And now, twenty-three, I press my face against a mirror
and slide my arms into a flannel, grandpa, hammy-down.
You took the last piece. You crawled into my guard, tore the lining
and spit your black blood on the blank memoirs I had hanging
next to the split.

Take me, now, if that’s how it’s gunna be. You wanna live
with the dust bunnies in my baggage? Feed off my insecurities,
my staggered breath, or my mercury dreams? I don’t want to be saved.
I’ve made my own maze with only one way out, so you’re trapped
in the Miss Havisham model I’ve made, rotten cake. Build yourself
a new girl from my discards, suckle the marrow from my bones,
and blow, like a glass ornament, a pretty replica of who I am.
Isn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that part of the chase?
The sweet idea that you could pull some perfect women out of the rubble?
I bet that’d be nice to show off, you *******. But here’s the catch,

I know I’m broken. You don’t need to remind me. So take
the smiles I’ve learned to draw on my lips for two cents,
and give up the **** fight I know you won’t win.

I drink and I drink until plastered.
For drinking is one art I've mastered.
It takes all my dough
To stay this drunk though,
So buy me a drink you cheap *******.

Elaine dreamed of John;
she twisted and turned
in her sleep,
enfolded in the sheets
and blankets,
embracing her pillow.

But now
sitting on the school bus,
she knows
she won’t tell him,
won’t mention
any aspects
of the dream to him.

He's there
a few seats away
on her right;
sitting and talking
to the Goldfinch boy.

She watches him,
safe in her distant seat,
unseen by him;
his eyes on something
Goldfinch shows him.

In the dream
he had kissed her
and she had liked it,
and still senses it
on her lips,
brushing her lips
with the back
of her hand,
trying to relive
the dream.

Later as they get off
the bus
he turns to her
and looks at her.

I dreamed of you
last night.

She blushes,
looks beyond him,
sees her sister walk on,
chatting to another girl;
she looks back at him.

Did you?

He nods.

Colourful dream.

Was it?

Yes, we were alone together
and not at school;
some other place.

She tries to control
her blushing,
but finds it difficult;
her dream of him
seeming so real.

Where was it?

Never saw it before.

What happened?

He looks behind him,
then back at her.

I kissed you.

Did you?

Her words are so fragile
they barely make it
to the air.

Yes, and you liked it,
and didn't make
a fuss or walk off.

She looks at her
battered black shoes.

Was I expecting
to be kissed?

Hard to say
with dreams,
they are
kind of surreal.

Suppose they are.

She looks up at him,
takes in his
hazel eyes
and quiff
of brown hair.

Then what?  

Saw this unusual bird;
kind of like a swan,
but smaller,
less white.

She sighs
under her breath.

Bird?

Yes, odd bird.

And us?
What did we do
after the kiss?
She asks softly,
waiting for the answer,
but unsure
if she wants
to hear it.

We walked some place.

Where?

Don't know the place.

He looks at his watch.

Have to go soon,
but see you in recess?

I had a dream
about you, too.

He looks at her.
Did you?

She nods.

We kissed
in mine, too.

Was there
an odd bird
in your dream?

No, no bird;
just us and a kiss.

He looks
at his watch again.

Best be gone;
look at those clouds;
looks like rain.

Please don’t call me beautiful
when your hands are between my legs,
and god forbid you say it as a seg-way
between you’re so hot
and my caution, your response
you’re sure you don’t want to?
I’m pretty sure the way my body looks,
nineteen and stress-infused with an Oreo belly
isn’t really what you pictured beneath my blouse,
and I’m positive you didn’t listen
to the story about my dad and the bad prom dress
because you cared. It was just sentiment. You said it was beautiful,
but really you wanted me to believe the act
like a description in the Playbill
and ride that trust all the way until the curtain dropped.
Please don’t call me beautiful
when the word ******* is before it
or if we are ******* because making love
is for married couples and you don’t even want me
sticking around for the ****** sunrise that peers
underneath your shade every morning.

Tell me I’m beautiful when I’m crying—
crack me open and watch the colors bleed
like a painting that hasn’t dried. Admire
the light that peaks through the clear parts
like a windowpane, no blinds.
Tell me I’m beautiful when I’m laughing,
when I’m reading my favorite part of a book,
when I’m stuffing my face with peanut-butter
pretzel bites and I haven’t washed my sheets in weeks,
and I’ll know you can’t be lying
because I’ve listened to the waves your heart makes
when you’re sleeping and I’ve called your smile
to the surface many times when you’ve tried
to deflect it back inside. You’ll know that
and you’ll know I’m beautiful.  
Call me beautiful
when you’re not even trying.
Call me beautiful when you’re by yourself
and the smell of my hair is still on your pillow,
or the memory of how dumb I sounded
singing my favorite song breaks your heart back
to the best little pieces.

Icy electricity, fiery desire
Melting, dripping, let's get higher
Take me, make me feel your heat
Bend me over, make me scream!
You bring to life my wildest dreams
Gripping tighter, feel my release
My body shakes, increasing speed
No longer a want, fulfilling animalistic needs

Baby, do you want it?  
You have me begging, baby please!
Moving my hips to meet your thrusts
You give it all to me!

>>Your hot sticky lust~>