you've got a box full of spiral notebooks in the back of your closet, in the attic, under your bed; every page black with scribbles of your despair and the words warped where the sheet caught your tears.

are you fed up yet?

|rh

i once fell for a boy
who let me hold my breath
until i turned blue
waiting for him to say
three simple words
but he set me free with
three other words of his own:
"you're not her."

i once befriended a girl
who went apple picking
with her family every fall
and swam with dolphins
every summer.
now she spends every christmas
and new year's with men who will
run their hands up her thighs
but cannot remember the color of her eyes.

i now dream of men
with colorful tattoos and smoky hair
who let me rest my head on their shoulders
and take my cares away.

i am now like ones who prefer
to dance and sleep alone at night.
i come into contact with those who
carry broken hearts in their ribcage
because maybe we can put the pieces all together.
and make something beautiful.

|rh