TODAY IN CLASS THIS CHICK WAS PASSING OUT A PACKET AND SHE JUST THREW MINE AT ME AND I SAID “Yo don’t fuckin throw that shit at me like I’m a stripper.” AND EVERYONE AROUND ME JUST STARED AT ME AND I REALIZED THAT ITS BC THATS THE FIRST THING IVE SAID IN CLASS SINCE I CAME TO THIS SCHOOL AND JFC
asexual? no you misheard me, i’m 'eh?'sexual, i’m only attracted to canadians
I filled my gas tank to 33 dollars and 33 cents
and told you it was for you
because it was your favorite number.
I organized our belongings
baby, this is where we keep our sweaters)
as if using the word “our” would embed myself
into what you call home.
I bought flowers from a homeless man
because you are a botany major.
I wanted to bring them to you,
wilting and loveless, and show you how
I can nurture something worth saving.
There is a five-finger scar above my breast.
There is an orchestra on my neck shaped like your pulse
from all the nights you held me the way
you only hold something slipping.
There are 6 states
pressed like stubborn flowers
between the last time I kissed you and today,
but you still feel like a sound caught in my throat.
I pretend I don’t love it
when you hold my hand in public,
when you catch a wild hair in the net of your fingers,
when you kiss me right in front of the gas station cashier.
I remember we live in a big city.
I secretly imagine the scandal we could cause
if we lived in a small town, where everyone knew your name
and your bed: how our love would spill like paint cans
across old wooden porches. It would seep
between the cracks of the floorboards,
the way I live beneath your fingernails
when you go home to her.