If I could compile every one of my thoughts
My dreams, my moments of joy, even hate
In the palms of my two long lean hands
I would examine them with antique binoculars
Just like I was a patron of the arts, a feather crown atop my head
Full length gloves, tulle skirt bouncing around
My most intimate parts.

I asked my papa today what he thought of you
Walking and parading around in the Alabama sunshine
Everyone has their story, their spine
We talked about you, among you, what you lacked
For what seemed like long
I remember when I was just a few years younger
I felt this need, this severe urgency
To get out a certain amount of information,
With anecdotes, to convey
Make what I felt, what I had to say known
That need still resides in me a little
But I see the desire for acceptance, validation
Grow fainter and fainter.

I shake my head away at negative or fearful thinking
And I will just start to feel a moment of positivity
Self love, letting go--
But knowledge, I know you haven't let me go yet
You've got more to say, you are gonna wanna corner me
Once more
I do, I fear for me
It makes me furrow my brow and bite my lip
Sigh heavily
For my spirit, my soul, my sensuality
Only to let it turn into an amused laughter
Hilarious disappointment
I'm such a spoiled *****
But ****, I've got to be the one
To make you and your impractical love
Stay the ******* **** **** AWAY from me.

Please.

My past reached out to me today in a number of ways
Driving around in my little red Jetta
I was the queen of the town
I am the queen of the town
I am the queen of my own life.

My memory floods back to that singular moment
A sticky note, on my wall
You showed me, as if it were a medal
You were supposed to be by my side that night
You claimed to be so proud
But I remember you were so inappropriately playful
Grabbing me around the party, like a little boy
In a lingerie store.
Your voice raspy and ringing with
What you thought I wanted to hear
And it was
But you could never really follow through.

I hate your ex-girlfriend.
I hate all of them.
I hate that they still adore you
I hate that they keep up with you
That you and your little incestuous posse
Still try to dance the same dance
Just grow the **** up.

But my hate, my rage, the betrayal
I have known and known again
I released it into the super moon tonight
You told me tonight, while in your Catholic church, no doubt
That you hoped I saw it, that its beautiful
As my mother put it in her deep Southern drawl:
"Branded forever."
Branded with ink and haunted by nature's night.

I stared deeply up at that moon
My father thought I was taking a picture, I looked so long
But really
All I saw were flashes of images, your voice
You calling out the name you gave me
Again and again
And how I always knew, in the back of my mind
That was fond for you, but not really until the very end
That my hands, my finger tips
Were always mid
Slip.