I am a dream holiday
A winning lottery ticket
A pre-suicidal Marilyn
They say, being with me is like chasing a fantasy
I’m always almost certain the novelty will wear off
What a curse it is, to be the type of woman who comes afterwards
to men who have already seen the world.
When you know he will go back to where he started off all along,
When you leave for vacation you always come home.
I bought myself flowers through sadness
Or sadness through flowers, I could not tell
but with the hope that their blooms would lift lift lift me up away from the dirt the rot the human disappointment.
I often dream of those spring walks with you when I would pluck flowers from the ground, sprinkling earth from its roots, velvet petals against my nose, my cheeks,
but my nails would dig into their stems, your flesh, as I clung to you both,
Always there with a smile and a no.
The wild girls run
With Hellhound hearts
and pretty boys who did not stand a chance
and mistakes they held like trophies
All the things you’d say to make them stay
The come-to-bed eyes, the bottles of gin, used matches
an Intoxication anomaly but
There is fire in you yet, your mother said,
Do you remember? That guilt you never wore again.