let it be because she reminded you of me.
that her blonde hair was cut in a chopped short mess,
just like mine.
and her laugh was a silent, gasping for air, kind of laugh.

that her eyes were green but you imagined they were blue,
that her lips almost tasted like my coconut chapstick,
that if you squinted your eyes hard enough,
she had my freckles.

let it be because she was wearing my favorite perfume,
because she was wearing my favorite color,
or because she was wearing black nail polish
that she had a bad habit of scratching off.

let it be because it was just a kiss,
because it didn't mean anything.
let it be because you were missing me,
and she was the closest thing.
let it be a stupid, heat of the moment, mistake.

let it be because you were drowning in loneliness,
and she was a boat.
or let it be because you couldn't feel me anymore,
and she was just at arms reach.
let it be something you will never do again...

just don't let it be because you don't love me anymore.

i hear the phone ring when
it doesn't, the door open
when it's locked, the
light switch flip when
it's off and i turn around and
look for you
still

anxiety is a terrorist
who holds me at gun point
and hijacks the plane that
i should be flying.
i don't know where we're headed
or what i'm going to do.

i am not safe on my own.

it's really too bad
that nicotine
leads to addiction

and it's too bad
that street drugs
cost so much

too bad that
alcohol isn't
given to minors

too bad that
i can't afford
to properly
destroy myself

too bad that
i've always
felt the need to.

The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.
She is daughter of the sun, reason the moon shines.
The view is breathtaking, and so is the vacuum.

Below spin smells of seaweed, wildflower perfume,
but here satellites crush to dust, just alkaline.
The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.

There's no air to breathe up here, only fumes;
she sees moons fall into their planets all the time.
The view is breathtaking, and so is the vacuum.

Sundancer somnambulist hears ghosts in her bedroom.
She pulls the tides to her chin, tucked in, and hides.
The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.

She dances in dark but keeps a toothbrush in my bathroom.
She is trying to survive.
The view is breathtaking, and so if the vacuum.

She whistles at birds, content in her own volume.
Constellation clustered face, her freckled stars align.
The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.
The view is breathtaking, and so are you.

i always knew i tempted your desires
your hungry eyes on my fair thighs
i saw the way you looked at me
when i bent over to pick up a flower from the ground
to tuck behind my ear; my curls laughing in the wind
i was warm and gentle with a fire in my eyes and a taste for danger
you couldn't place me: whether i was a ****** or a *****
the curve of my back told you stories about hands sliding in my pants
but the freckle on my cheeks told you i'd never touched a man in my life
you weren't sure what excited you more
thinking i was a **** for free,
a school girl without a history,
or knowing that you'd never know which one i was.
i knew that the length of my neck
gave you ideas about your teeth staining the skin
that my pink parted mouth
was built for you to crawl inside it
baby girl or ***** *****
you never could decide which
only that i played out your ******-***** fantasies
untouchable, waiting for you.
innocent outside, ***** to the core.

i always knew i tempted your desires
by my mere existence and the shape of a woman
i saw the way you looked at me
but i never thought you'd pin me to the wall
while i screamed for freedom into your hand
my muffled cries tempted your desires and you couldn't help but enjoy it
when the blood ran down my thighs
your dilemma was solved
and you realized that no one had touched me
the way you had
that tempted your desires
so you did it
again
and
again
and
again
until
i no longer
bled
or
cried
the fire
in
my
eyes
died
and
you
were
no
longer
tempted
by
my
******
in-betweens
or
the
dimples
in
my cheeks.

you
walked
away
free.

And I've got this tragic talent
Where I can fold up my feminism
And stuff it between my legs
Torturous ******, it's toxic shock syndrome

Apologies to suitors as I run fast from their drunken hands
When really I should be cutting those inebriated limbs loose from the bodies they've succumb to
Because I was taught not how to defend myself from charming attackers,
But rather to refrain from setting my drink down at parties and bars and family reunions

How is it that the Boy's Club manifested itself into the bible? And how the ****** Mary is only remembered for carrying greatness below her breast
Giving birth to the boy wonder all while keeping her ***** intact

And finally, once that sacred space rock exits the womb
We must answer to that almighty lord of genitals
Like if Jesus was a girl, the Ascension would have taken place much sooner
And that archangel would have had to start all over