the math teacher yells, and my shoulders shake
i draw smiley faces on the holes my dad kicks in the wall
you won't get enough of me
until it's too late.
we are the girls with their boyfriend's sweatshirts on their pillow
gloss, legs swish by each other,
everything your mom won't let you buy in the lit-up, pink aisles of walmart.
fish swimming in our heels, and poppy petals fall with our tears,
the fields and forests part for us,
and we don't fear anything but those closest to us.
I'll sit in my room, in flames,
or at my desk in class, soft as beagle ears,
slim,
I think of
you.