i used to be a girl that got ****** on friday nights
spilling beer in garages across town, making boys laugh
calculating how many smiles or touches on the shoulder or seconds of eye contact could make me feel like i belonged somewhere, a cigarette for every unit of the quota i didn't manage to meet
even on mornings i woke up with sore lungs, i was alive
alive with meaning, with weightlessness, with two cups of diet coke on a patio table
watching snails climb up the aloe vera plant
i used to be a girl who felt whole on saturday mornings