…..And if a girl is a gun, i’m so ******* sorry.
She’s lonely on my sixteenth birthday,
I do not exist
in her world of thin skin,
freckled with scarlet beads
and conservative laughter.
I’m late meeting her.
In the name of hesitancy,
in the name of powdered armor.
Her laugh is a match box and I’m built of chlorate,
burning
lonely.
She will remain she, her,
distant.
A name is power,
her name is poison.
But she is the earth and sun and moon and blade and
no.
A name is power.
Green eyes break hearts;
green eyes broke mine.
I’m considering loving her.
A pipe dream of tangled legs,
and intertwined fingers,
and stained hollows of her neck.
I’m thinking about kissing her.
Frozen on a run down revolver,
in paralyzed time.
I’m thinking about kissing her,
and i’ve swallowed too much whiskey.
I am falling into the arms of no one -
into blonde sunsets
and creased smiles
stringing songs into confessions,
realizing she cannot catch me.
She catches me between her lips,
between nervous kisses,
under clouds of ****** ****.
Under painted pink sunsets,
before the storm,
before the needle.
Confidence is built through quiet breathing,
through uneven tabs,
through pulling her mattress closer to mine.
I’m loving her from hospital beds and limited calls.
Tipping back paper cups
only to hold her.
I’m hurting her through letters,
writing a separate note.
I’m loving her until I die,
because breathing is too heavy.
And this is everything I’ve wanted,
she is loving me,
pressing into me - and for a moment i’m glad i’m not dead.
I am hurting her as she is loving me.
I am leaving her,
she is loving me.
We fight through six months and snowstorms,
ugly weather brings uglier words.
I am drunk and hating her,
sober and driving her insane.
I am taking her for granted,
pushing her further as she’s pulling me closer,
begging time to slow down.
I catch glimpses of her between class as we aren't speaking,
as she is falling,
and I let her hit the ground.
And if a girl is a gun, then ****,
I’m dead.
She always forgives me,
giving trust away as though it costs nothing.
I lay on her shoulder and kiss her inner thighs,
as she believes I am good.
We stop time together in the same way as last summer,
losing ourselves in lyrics, and phone calls,
and basements.
She stays when I am no longer profitable,
I am loving her,
she is teaching me.
She says she’ll never forget me,
though I wish she would.
She is my sun, my love, my heart,
holding back tears in my driveway.
