a white picket fence; half in between
where men made bruises and batter
women kept secrets hidden in their lips
throwing away the keys

running to plastered trailer walls
a home i thought it could be
that peeled at its seams
my father tried to keep his hands rough enough
for the dirt to fall off of my skin,
his arms to comfort me
so much could only stand an amount of time
after barbecuing underneath overgrown peach trees,
shopping for strawberry lip gloss at mall city
now laying in piles of clothes,
behind brown leather sofas,
in a chipping bath with a jug of Hennessy,

his hollowness followed me in midnight internet schemes
where i thought love would soon be
only to find men calling to make more batter
and i soon, became a women of locked lips
answering with clothes off, her hair *******
in attempt to make a new white picket fence dream,
half in between