cookie dust and giggling
again again again
soft soft skin little hands and sour breath for
a moment we are the same and you
little and young and whole run to me and
I am also whole occasionally
Especially with little arms around my
Neck
still in shock at the way love and
selfishness coincide and simultaneously
we survive. I strive to be kind out I am selfish for
wanting more time with little you (and also) so
full of love
giving you all (everything) I can spare.

mostly
I am angry that you took everything I gave you
I wish you had told me to stop and wash the love off of my hands
tenderly
you could have told me to stop to stop putting my thoughts into your self
to stop painting you over my body over every curve every corner of my brain
maybe I could have been more prepared more empty of you by the time you decided to make me leave

I wash my hands constantly, as the smell of anything unnatural makes me uneasy. I smell the tips of my fingers and the palms of my hands nervously; the smell of metal, carpet, and reluctance all trapped between my fingers nauseate me. I run to the sink and pump soap into my hands before frantically rubbing them together, forming as many bubbles as possible.

I only like my hands when they smell like soap or oranges or lavender.

I have nightmares about you during the day. I sit awake and wonder how much of you was real and how much is just sound that I created in a desperate leap for love. The leap I swore I would take over and over again.

There is paint on my arms and my hands right now and all I can think about is how i wish I were an artist
I wish i could draw myself into things the way I can push myself into things that hurt

My mom told me I am brave that I am fearless that I just do things
but I think I am reckless with myself
the way I run into pain face first and tear into it with my fists over
and over again
I have never been afraid of change
The way pain rolls over you and makes your stomach convulse
your whole body week and your sobs so huge that they don’t make sound beyond the frantic gasp for air at the end

I have always been to proud of being human
for some reason I think that the way I feel the way I live is somehow monumental
running into things over and over again

I have been taught to remember everything to be scared of every man.

Riding the bus I was harassed six times today.
Six times.
The way men look at you before they make a comment you just look down like you’re bowing to them it feels like some sort of respect when really I am just terrified

Every time a man says
“well hey sweetie **** sweetie smile sweetie **** those legs sweetie”

I have visions of reaching through their putrid abdomens and ripping their guts from their bodies

their blood dripping from my hands I know I would sob but

I would like them to fall to their knees in pain so that I could scream that this is for the women this is for all the women and I would leave them to bleed and bleed and bleed

like all the women have for generations

but

instead of that I look down and they laugh because I am vulnerable and small

...

inside I am angry and big and the hair on my body and the knowledge in my brain are the biggest acts of rebellion I can give them

I discovered freshman year that if you hit on the boys they
like you. They don’t call you a ***** or take pictures of your ***** or
stalk you in the hallway, trying to touch you for an instant
instead they give you gum and “teach” you how to do biology;
how to write a paper. they let you stroke their egos by saying
“Thank you I understand now” even if you already knew or
if they are wrong. they become not scary...you say “hello” and you flirt
because your sexuality is what makes you powerful

I learned to flaunt myself, to flaunt it all. bending  over a desk just a tad
Makes 16 year old boys kinder--more gentle--for a moment --you can share your opinions when they are distracted with your sexuality-

This is self defense.
angry boys angry men make my skin crawl
one two three ten boys
have you ever said no to an angry man?

“I want to *******” “why are you leading me on”
“your parents are control freaks, move in with me. I know what’s best for you”
“pay your dues” “show me your ***** or you aren’t a feminist”
“you’re so hot for being 14” “***** say hello back”

I tell him he *****, he says “no that is your job”
melting into the floor I cry. 15 and dissolving slowly into the system

18 year old men chasing me, taunting me, snapping my newly acquired bra straps
it is easiest to reciprocate. pretend I am happy I am flirty and young
SWOOn for it all. Turn around when someone whistles (smile)
it seems less threatening. then they will not corner you or
text you saying what a ***** or take you up somewhere dark
and wrap their hands around your waist press themselves against you SAYING
“Are you ticklish”
draw your hands to where they want them

stumbling into an apartment, I know he is safe and will not hurt me but
my heart is racing and my skin aches (I should not be this terrified)
I open my phone so I can dial 9-1-1 at any instant
--just  in   case--
Nothing happens. but I leave, running, and sob in my car

I find myself giggling and smiling more and more
The way a man looks at you changes if you
Giggle and smile  “oh sweetheart”
giggling is self defense. I learned early that giggling makes
you seem soft and small and cute and men
like that. waving back and laughing at
every unwanted approach. It is self defense. You feel powerful.

until it ends. and I am alone feeling empty and lonely
guilt charging through me.

I am working on smiling less.

i have always loved You in black
anxiously tapping your foot on the floor
the one evening I was grateful for the bubbling alcohol in my brain
as You watched me and I watched you back.
the way you pulled against my hands as I tried to make you dance ("please dance with me baby") Your nerves making my heart
ache
we all know i cannot dance.
the car was warm on the way home and you (angrily) chided me
again and again for being irresponsible as I caressed your skin
again and again. sighing.

i kissed You hard --two weeks left baby-- before running, dress flying behind me,
into my dark house. the grass was wet and my heart racing. i told you to
drive safely (promised that I was safe) (promising to be smart)

you fell asleep calmed down and I fell asleep breathless, imagining you dancing. the way You move, moves me more than adrenaline
ever will

I remember my fan whirring loudly with the occasional CLICk.... CLICK...cliCk ... like the random beating of my heart  

...............

the way you take my hands now, "let's dance baby", I am breathless at the way you have grown
black socks and soft hands
You kiss me hard --two days left baby--

I have not left her behind.

there is a way...etched within me I cannot separate myself. again
and again and again. the way you fall in love
with a step and a smell and a sandwich  
I am easily deterred from people

a good bye a leave me alone...placed gracefully between us.

it is almost May and there is snow on the ground
dusting the trees and baby leaves rebelliously
I dare myself to forget the warmth of
summer skin..again and again...