My neck feels different
And I guess I have to admit,
Sometimes I ******* write for the internet.
I can’t find that big white skirt, but my mother takes
Photographs of me in a bikini
Get me off the payroll, I say.

When your phone goes straight to voicemail
I worry every time—what if thats it?
What if he just disappears?
What if I find myself running into him someday, too
At a bar
Avoiding eye contact, side by side
I pour numerous shots down my throat
Can’t deal with it
Finally the childhood lovers see one another
You walked up to me, your southern dialect so thick
Hug, wrap yourself on me
“What happened? What happened?”
Please don’t make me ever ask that, not again.

Threats of my future being stolen away
But I try to cover ground
So tired of staring at my computer screen
And I guilt trip myself for things I did or didn’t do
No $50 for you, papa doesn’t want it
And I write and speak about the most personal things
Why ***** everywhere?

And I can feel myself getting to that point
Where the South starts to grow stale
But I know I have so much more to do
To see, be,
Before I leave
But God, I just long to be with you
We could forget ourselves, in each other
You and I.
But you have to leave
Me.

And I will leave, everything.
Because right now, I always leave
Long Eyelashes: I ponder you sometimes,
See images of the sweet messages you sent here and there
But its not enough, no
Its not enough.
You will never be enough.
And I know it.

But why stab my long fingers into what is right now
Why kick in every fleeting moment
Might as well hover here in the air, Doc
Even if I put on my best smile—as your girlfriend turns her back,
You look at me like you could just eat me up.

These men that come in and out
My mother’s best friend told me wisely tonight
That we as women, we just
We just
In one way or another, we let it happen
We don’t know why its that way
You don’t know
I don’t know.
But I know now that if anyone really tried to knock me around
Or regularly talked to me like I was some object
I would leave them
With a ****** mouth.

Kisses in the grass, my granny said the other day
A solider was so happy to be back from Afghanistan
He “could kiss the grass”
There is just something about the South
And something about the North
Lars Von Trier makes controversial films
But thank God for the art and something to discuss.

Cover me in your intelligent thoughts
Lets decipher what it is I am contemplating or feeling
I wish you didn’t have to go.
Betrayer, I see you no where in sight
The truth is that I have never been so full of shine and armor.

Close the eyes
Close the eyes for now
For tomorrow will be lighter, perhaps.