The Vacation Girl and The Men who Came to See Her

I am a dream holiday

A winning lottery ticket

A pre-suicidal Marilyn

Narcotic Beauty

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.

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The Blooms

 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,

And you,

Always there with a smile and a no.

The Wild Girls

The wild girls run

With Hellhound hearts

and pretty boys who did not stand a chance

Whiplash kisses

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.