You ask what I'm thinking, and I give you
Some line I wrote in freshman English.
Then you sit there telling me I'm so insightful,
But, God!—I've got you fooled.
I am not special or interesting or
Different;
I am a girl who reads poems
(Far too much Bukowski) and
Lets the flicker of the TV lull her to sleep.
Night after night it's some new hero telling a girl with big eyes he loves her,
And then they're living 'happily ever after'
Like it's some place you can drop by for a postcard and a bite to eat.
It's *******.
Still, look at me—I eat it up,
Let it sink so deep that it digs through my bones
Until I'm practically made of the stuff.
And the worst part is, I'm running around spouting all this fairy-tale garbage,
Like maybe if I say it often enough, it'll come true.
But, of course, it never does.
You never burst through the right door, and I never cry into the crook of your neck.
I don't love you, and you only think you love me:
The ***** who reads Bukowski.

We were always taking scissors to our paper hearts—
Cutting shapes to let the light in,
Then throwing the scraps like confetti, though,
They fell more like rain.
We just wanted to feel something,
But now we're puppets without strings—
We spent so much time trying to get free,
We never dreamed of where we'd go,
Or if we'd go there together.
Now I'm tangled in your goodbyes and telephone wires;
There's a hole in my chest where yours used to touch.
I see your face when I look in the mirror,
As if I've forgotten whose shadow was sewn to the soles of my feet.
I carry you with me—maybe out of habit,
Maybe out of love.
To be honest, I can't tell them apart;
I don't think I ever could.
When you see the moon
Illuminate the fog,
Comforted by the creak of your porch swing,
Do you miss me?

We were so small,
But we felt galaxies within us—
Miles and miles of open road, splintering off in all directions.
We'd talk all night about how one day
The boys would come running and we'd pick them off like flower petals, humming
'He loves me, He loves me not.'
We'd dream about having our hearts broken,
Just like in all of those movies,
Hoping to one day be shattered so beautifully
Our hearts would become kaleidoscopes
When the light hit just right.
We'd stare at the old women in the theaters who talk too loud,
Ask too many questions.
We swore that'd be us one day,
Kids grown up, husbands at home,
Laughing at the little girls wearing high heels and bright lipstick.
But you found a boy, and he has a car—
He says you must be the prettiest girl he's ever seen.
And I'm not even a single star, much less a whole galaxy.
Time doesn't fly away—it dies,
And I've come to realize that we die with it.

You thought it'd be so easy to love a girl made of paper—
Crumple her mind in your fist, leave your mark on her vacant skin.
You were threatened by her lightness, by the staunch white;
Told yourself she'd be better for the splotch of color, even thank you one day.
Her edges would be thin, barely breaking skin if she cut you back—a quick sting and it's over,
no lasting scars.
Little did you know ink flows through her veins—
Miles and miles of words sharper than your scissors raging through arteries,
Pounding in her ears, crashing like waves against her teeth.
You thought it'd be so easy to burn a girl made of paper—
You tore her open only to drown.

I can't think straight
(Or crooked or sideways).
I'm too ******* tired to invent some new distraction
(You're no good at party tricks)
And too scared to figure out what the hell I want.
The water's filling up your lungs—
A kiss could make it all better,
But I'm too busy blowing bubbles
And skipping rocks across the surface.
Despite it all, you stand and wait
When I fall behind on our afternoon walk
And offer me your arm when the trail gets steep.
You're oxygen, but I'm reaching for novacane,
Trying so hard to be indifferent to the spark in your eyes and the part of your lips,
Though I know **** well it's no use.
I am a moth to a flame—
When it burns too bright, It consumes me.
So I'll turn away before it starts,
Blind myself to every truth except the one I live inside:
If I can't love you, I can't love anybody.