an explanation for my revery.


my eight year old self wrote a suicide note.
covered in tears, stashed in my tote.
i wasn't right, and i knew i was broke.
so i sat in my bath tub, for a long soak.

little girl hands wandering on my chest.
i barely had nipples, certainly not breasts.
crying on the mickey mouse sheets on my bed.
i knew i was broke, and it was something in my head.

    I carried all your eggs in my basket,
    and I dropped it, I'm sorry.

    I carried the hopes you had for yourself,
    and somehow I lost them, I'm sorry.

    I looked a gift horse right in the mouth,
    and I fucking punched it, I apologize.

& i'll never ask.


    i want to be your ballerina, i want to dance for you only on my tippy toes
    i want to be your sealed envelope, only you knowing what i enclose
    i want to be your typewriter, clacking all night for only our ears to hear
    i want to be your favorite memory, something warm comforting and sincere

  but i'll never be the one in your dreams,
  i'm the girl full of tying-you-down schemes.
  but i'll never be the one to turn you on,
  i'm the one you think is too far gone.

     i want to be your pants, i want to fit tight to your hips and stick like a glove
     i want to be your bruised ego, worrying about the things you feel unworthy of
     i want to be your scent, sickly sweet as a cactus bloom in the summer sun
     i want to be your dog, on a leash tugged tight while you quietly come undone

 but i'll never be the one you turn to,
 i'm the girl you wished you never knew.
 but i'll never be the one inside your heart,
 i'm the one who should stop before i start.

   and i never want to be your heart, so cold in it's distilled unchanged love
   and i never want to be your tragedies, the likes that i have never dreamed of
   and i never want to be your hands, stuck in your pockets for lack of a better
   and i never want to be your life, being read aloud just like an open letter

ithurtstothinkthis.txt


this is my kiss to you
the last goodbye, the farewell fuck
holding our palms against our thighs
fighting for control
we own our bodies, they dont own us

convicted as a romantic for life
someone shouts that you've gone crazy in love
love sure but in love?
i hush them up as you blush red

a friend of mine got your number
she wrote it on the side of her converse
said she thought i'd like you, i'd dig you deep
true as it was, not even she knew the depth