Nov 2015
13.00 was written on the tip line
the total was 68
you told me I was rude
for making sure to ask
if that made 20 percent
and that we made sure
our waiter knew
that at least one of us here
gave a **** about their pain
gripping the door handle so tightly
I felt like throwing myself onto the beltway
would've been less dangerous than trying to calm you
or thinking
of just closing my eyes and screaming
just screaming
so maybe you would've crashed into the shoulder
and finally stopped talking
outside with your cigarette
I felt my heels dig into the cracks in the asphalt
and I felt ethereal and tangible
the night held me at the waist
and stroked my hair
whispering lilac words
and scarlet promises
but you had to go
and put your lips on me
and opened your mouth again
on the hotel bed I sunk into
the silence and the hum of traffic
outside of the window
I thought about how your fingers felt
helping me zip up my dress
and how those hands
haven't once touched me
in ways
that should've killed me by now
but you didn't need them
because when I close my eyes these days
I have to think about breathing
and all I can see are my mother's arms
cradling and
covered in blood
and the way the trees decided to match
the color of my cat's fur
on the same week he departed
and then turned to red and fell
back down on the asphalt
and I remember when I looked at you
and saw yellows and orange and pinks
but they were just glints of fond memories
like the reflection of vegas lights shining in the desert
and off my reflection in the fountains
or my blistered feet padding along the wooden floor
towards the bed
naked and smelling of pisco
grasping to you
in the cold new york night
or of course the sunburnt twilight
up on griffith
holding on tightly to the rails but this time
with flight under my skin
soaring through the haze
and actually feeling the corners of my mouth
cramp from overuse
now all I see are street lamps
and the monochrome wrinkles
that line your eyes
your face a void
my hands firmly holding myself
trying so hard to escape again
i held for so long
and ripped my skin
piece by piece
for your ego
for your possession
for your trophy
but when it came to paying the bill
you were still
like always
about a dollar short
the total was 68
you told me I was rude
for making sure to ask
if that made 20 percent
and that we made sure
our waiter knew
that at least one of us here
gave a **** about their pain
gripping the door handle so tightly
I felt like throwing myself onto the beltway
would've been less dangerous than trying to calm you
or thinking
of just closing my eyes and screaming
just screaming
so maybe you would've crashed into the shoulder
and finally stopped talking
outside with your cigarette
I felt my heels dig into the cracks in the asphalt
and I felt ethereal and tangible
the night held me at the waist
and stroked my hair
whispering lilac words
and scarlet promises
but you had to go
and put your lips on me
and opened your mouth again
on the hotel bed I sunk into
the silence and the hum of traffic
outside of the window
I thought about how your fingers felt
helping me zip up my dress
and how those hands
haven't once touched me
in ways
that should've killed me by now
but you didn't need them
because when I close my eyes these days
I have to think about breathing
and all I can see are my mother's arms
cradling and
covered in blood
and the way the trees decided to match
the color of my cat's fur
on the same week he departed
and then turned to red and fell
back down on the asphalt
and I remember when I looked at you
and saw yellows and orange and pinks
but they were just glints of fond memories
like the reflection of vegas lights shining in the desert
and off my reflection in the fountains
or my blistered feet padding along the wooden floor
towards the bed
naked and smelling of pisco
grasping to you
in the cold new york night
or of course the sunburnt twilight
up on griffith
holding on tightly to the rails but this time
with flight under my skin
soaring through the haze
and actually feeling the corners of my mouth
cramp from overuse
now all I see are street lamps
and the monochrome wrinkles
that line your eyes
your face a void
my hands firmly holding myself
trying so hard to escape again
i held for so long
and ripped my skin
piece by piece
for your ego
for your possession
for your trophy
but when it came to paying the bill
you were still
like always
about a dollar short
