there have been several times in my life where i’ve felt like a good person. this isn’t one of those times, right now i’m The Worst Girl In The World. my twisted, gnarled, sickly, wretched, rotten heart won’t do what’s right.

there have been several times in my life where i’ve felt unloved. this isn’t one of those times, right now I’m The Only Girl In The World. my twisted, gnarled, sickly, wretched, rotten heart stays tucked away.

there have been several times in my life where i’ve felt sure of myself. this isn’t one of those times, right now I’m Completely And Utterly Lost. my twisted, gnarled, sickly, wretched, rotten heart ignores my pleas for help.

suddenly you’re quiet in a different way. your face still glistens with tears: little crystals tracing paths away from your puffy red eyes. except you’re not crying anymore, something switched inside of you. you kiss me anywhere you can reach, as gently as you can manage. it doesn’t feel desperate like the other night–this time you know i won’t go anywhere. 

slow. collected. calm. methodical: an unknowable algorithm dictates the way you traverse my body.

a pressure on my cheek // you interlock your fingers with mine

a pressure on my upper arm // you grab my waist

a pressure on my lower leg // you pull me between your legs

a pressure on the back of my neck // i like it

a pressure on my shoulder // i like it when i can turn my brain off

a pressure on the back of my hand // because if i think about it too hard

a pressure just above my collarbone // i’ll realize i don’t love you in the same way

does it matter where you kiss me? // there’s a sickness, grief, growing inside of me

i leave the room, go somewhere deep inside my thoughts.

the worst thing i can imagine doing right now is making you cry.

so i’ll let you keep kissing me.

there have been several times in my life where i’ve felt like a good person. this isn’t one of those times, right now i’m The Worst Girl In The World. my twisted, gnarled, sickly, wretched, rotten heart is stubborn and unchanging.

a pressure in the side of my thigh as i give myself a shot the next day. last night, you left holding back tears i brought about. i was confused. distraught. concerned. why did you keep touching me like a lover?

i keep thinking about your place three weeks ago: still no couch, no stools, a drawer full of loose silverware. i cried so much that night, thinking about the way i wanted that girl so much more than you. the way she lilted behind me in the bar with the kind of weightlessness i crave. the way she danced so stupid with the kind of ease i crave. the way she looked into my eyes with the kind of joy i crave. the way a hole ripped open inside of me as i walked to the car, friend’s words bouncing off my skull. i didn’t know attraction until that day.

weeks pass. 

you sob. i cry. 

you bawl. i tell you the secret festering in my heart. 

you weep. i say we’ll figure it out.

you grieve. we don’t figure it out.

you kiss me over and over again. squeeze me as tightly as you’re able. it’s still desperate, nothing has switched inside of you yet. a few days later, you’ll go quiet and i’ll see you for what might be the final time. you’ll kiss me without any desperation. i’ll ask you why you touched me that way. you’ll leave on the verge of tears. i’ll send a text asking for space. you’ll miss me in a way distinct from how i’ll miss you.

but i’ll still miss you, still ache to see you again.

i’ll wish you were a girl.

i’ll regret learning how my heart works. 

i’ll write a stupid poem.

there have been several times in my life where i’ve felt like a good person. this isn’t one of those times, right now i’m The Worst Girl In The World. my twisted, gnarled, sickly, wretched, rotten heart yearns for something else.