Strawberry milkshake two straws extra whipped cream

Tastes like I thought she might


Blonde First Love love

Between fractures in my fingernails,

Saved for later like mouth cavity moist taffies, pink or blue. Avoid consuming after bedtime.

Section 6 table 9 we’re center stage

Staring our sex into the celibacy of straights

With their some-kind-of



Can I write the next act like some-kind-of

Me, crawling,

Scaling sticky floor like curious child

Breaking fault lines into the table top

Arched back pressing our seal, our blood pact,

(“don’t tell anyone we will live forever”)

into ancient diner gum, pink and blue.

Crown of my head praying to

“Kate + Mike = 4ever”.

You opened yourself you just might taste like

Strawberry blonde milkshake

Extra whipped cream

Each and every one of my dreams

Living inside just a shaky sharpie heart on the bottom of diner booth table

4ever, 4ever.

Seven First Words

Seven First Words

Followed by all these firsts

I had let you into,

(Like my childhood bed,

your arms around my waist that night as we melted our faces into the moonlight was all too tempting.)

This is one is mine.

This one collapses any simple thought of you

In a moment.

And in this moment,

Well it’s not just a moment.

It’s reading Salvia Plath, her long long lines for the first time it’s spinning around the entire universe in one, simple second and landing your eyes right back on you.

And there’s this special feeling I’ve never felt before.

Of breath over breath,

and my

everything is

mapped by blood vessels widening, the slowest pulse, all the music.

And your everything is seen through ocean pupils opening, your lips rest at a permanent parting, you trace mine as I say,

“I love how healing you are.”

“Say it again.”

“I love how healing you are.”

Seven first words

The moment I was born.

Year Fifteen, The Month of May

You shaved my legs in the bathtub

On Saturday morning bodies slick and damp and

I think you smell like grass after rainfall.

I stain your soft cotton heart in mistakes-born blood you say you can only love me when I’m clean but.

Sometimes I taste my day dreams inside of you

Sometimes I can’t find you

Sometimes I need my sister’s stolen cigarettes and a large bottle of drunk

Sometimes I burn my hair in bleach and my skin in matches

I think both seeped too deep last night.


Your face hangs in the hospital hallways

The empty 6 bus the soggy midnight cereal bowl sometimes they ask me to describe you sentences snapshots genders kissed bruises and all I can think is


Sometimes I don’t sleep to touch pale pink moons on your fingernails

Sometimes in the shower you make me bleed out why I live and how I do not

Sometimes we run away to lose our virginities sometimes in the month of August your parents call me 17 times to fight to keep your’s sometimes it’s May now I tear my memory inside out to find any tangled pieces of my own.

It’s May now I leave 

I decide in inpatient that you were right

I must be my own hell

Because there’s no devil living inside of you I have checked so many times.

Sometimes like these times I am read bloated eyes touching you through pay phone cords they don’t take quarters they take dignity

Sometimes I ask you

“Bring me your blanket

I am shaking wrap it around me.

Please take whatever it is living inside of me

Put her in my bed and call her ‘Sometimes’ and call her ‘Ok.’

Year fifteen, the month of May.

You take me with my

Sneakers with the shoelaces cut off

Golf pencils and the manifestos I wrote with no erasers

Drive me out of Katonah we still have

Junior Prom.