she finds that time is not linear
in the gospel-like gold and amber
that glaze the green poplar leaves
in her suburban summer evenings

what is she left to be?
she with a warrior's heart
but with legs in tired atrophy

at dusk the water ripples with silver-toned echoes
whispering mythical adventures and heroes
and the words churn and boil in her mythical blood
"I would rather be ashes than dust!"

what is she left to be?
she with a warrior's heart
but with legs in tired atrophy

every night still she stargazes through her ceiling
a coward's tears on her cheeks slowly peeling
courage like corn husks from her ancient soul
leaving her core shivering in the dust and dusty cold

what is she left to be?
she with a warrior's heart
freezes
with legs in tired atrophy

My loneliness makes me taste like toothpaste
because over the course of my shame-polluted day,
regrets pile up like grime in my gums, and she
likes to pretend,
(hundreds of miles deep into the night),
that brushing my teeth for an extra two minutes or so
renders me finally clean, and
forgotten.

She makes me use the peppermint that stings, because
it’s easier for me to picture the rotten remains of my
ugly, fumbled words losing their sticky grip
on the insides of my cheeks,
dissolving in fizzles and bubbles and fire as if in
flavored acid.

My loneliness tastes like hair and
skin pulled taut over bent knees
because she imagines that her set of
tired, unwanted bones fit together
like an awkward origami cocoon enclosing,
(shrinking)
my repulsive, obtrusive body.

And she folds around me
despite the sharp, stabbing aches
in my curved spine and knotted appendages
because we have learned that her skeleton
is the only thing that will protect
me.

the next day the rumors had already stained the walls
            red as the shame on your freckled cheeks

everyone knew what you had done

the words passed around like morning coffee
            poured half-n-half with frothy nervous laughter
            snickers and side glances

"cassie kissed a girl with blue hair in the parking lot of glory days"

they must have been watching you
seen you in the moment you wanted to protect from them the most
             to bury deep inside your guilty heart

but you were their entertainment at glory days instead
            the perfect accompaniment
            for their 1am pancakes and gossip
emma glanced out the window
            and in the dim amber light of the parking lot she spotted you
                        and your girl with blue hair next to your car
            watched her take your shaking hand
                        caress your cheekbone
and they all laughed at their perfectly-timed sideshow
            laughed at the love you couldnt help but feel
shrieked shamelessly
            syrupy mouths full of pancake
            when you lifted her bowed head and kissed her gently
they were taking notes of every movement for school tomorrow

as i watched them break you apart
i hoped so badly that you didnt notice them there
            that you didnt see them pointing from the window
            that you didnt know they were selling pieces of you
            that you didnt hear them laughing
            that they would all forget

and if you knew i hope they couldnt take your pride away
            that you would always remember it as just
            you and your girl with blue hair
            in the parking lot of glory days