i have polaroid’s on my wall

of all the boys i used to kiss.

there are ***** dishes in the sink 
and i think this will be the year that

i pretend to love people just because

there’s nothing else to do.

i spend my time reading poems about girls

who have broken hearts and smoke cigarettes.

i spend my time reading poems about girls 

who rip their ribcage open just to find out

that there is nothing left inside except 
empty beer bottles.

i get drunk and slip into silk 
and realize that i am a combination of

1/3 love and 2/3 champagne bubbles

and i think to myself,

"maybe this is what it’s like to be 
the hurricane instead of the rain."