she feels the absence of anyone touching her,
imagines what it would be like to have
that pretty boy
touch his velvet lips to hers,
imagine what it would be like to feel
his magic rub off on her
to have his words
circulate in her head until she's drunk off his poetry.
she knows
this will never happen,
knows he will soon see into her abyssal soul
realize the cuts run deeper than the ones on her wrist,
realize her storm is
a bit too wild for him.