i heard you were skipping town. when you do,
take my hunger with you.
there are over 200 bones in the human body
but no one seems to understand the nature
of a bruise, the crush of skin,
the pressure. i don’t want you to leave
but what choice do i have?
one of my best friends has sweet brown eyes
like a baby deer and she asked me “do you ever
find yourself thinking about it?” i didn’t tell her
that i do. it doesn’t matter what it is. three
years ago i was a completely different person
and i made my choices and that’s all.
i don’t want to talk about it.
it’s like this: you look at me like you’re
lost in the desert and i am
every mirage you ever dreamed.
don’t do that to me.
don’t turn me into hallucination, into
a quavering image and a heat
stroke dream. don’t you think
i deserve better than that?
find my lines (the slope of my nose, my
twitchy fingers, the arch of my spine)
and color them in with your bare hands.
when you go, don’t bother with goodbye.
don’t bother trying to solve the problems
you created for yourself
when you were young, and dumb, and sweet,
and full of yearning, full of want.
you held onto everything with both hands.
you didn’t know how to let it go.