v. Prize

i do. it’s still nice to hear. i crave feeling needed.  i need you to need me. sometimes i wonder why i draw all the broken men my way. do i jinx you and make you need me? do i think the thought and make you message me at 4 am? absolutely stinking drunk and stumbling texting one word at a time just to prove you can?

“where did you come from?” “you messaged me. let me drive you home.” “i don’t remember how you knew i was there.” “you messaged me. i tried to drive you home but you refused and came home with me instead.”

“did i hurt you?” yes. “no i’m fine.” there was blood on the sheets and i had to use oxyclean to get it out... most of it out. the hurt in my chest isn’t easy to clean out. why’d you have to kiss me in the parking lot of the bar? why’d you have to cry in my hair and tell me to stop rubbing your back and hug you like  a real hug. “i love you.” “i love you too, buddy.” later you weren’t too happy i called you buddy...

“i’m afraid i hurt you. i’m a sadist when i’m drunk.” “i’m a masochist and i go to the edge of safety i’m a bad influence.”

but i told you you were too drunk i tried to squirm away i didn’t know when i started bleeding but i did tell you it hurt you did stop... and started and stopped and started too many knuckles “is this... a bleeding...” “i’m not on my period.” “we need to stop.” no shit.

but you kissed me.  told me you love me. you do that when you’re drunk. told me i’m the only girl you’re fucking. so i get on my knees and we start again.

“she would only fuck me when she was drunk.” “... you only fuck me when you’re drunk.” “no. no don’t think like that.  i know it sounds bad. i only let myself be with you when i’m drunk.” oh.

Now what's surreal is meeting up for an ice breaker

first date at the Waffle House

on Dixie Highway

at midnight

Maybe this one will talk less about

Serial killers

It's a shock to them to see you break down in front of them for the first time. They want to help but there's no helping, because there's nothing really wrong. Just. This is how you are. Sometimes everything hurts and nothing can make it better so you just finally let your guard down and cry and sigh so hard.

back when you were trying to re-earn my trust you walked up clark street to meet me at a cocktail lounge to enjoy some jazz music which turned out to be terrible and drink some craft ginger ale because you “weren’t drinking”  to prove to me that you could

anyway you told me you passed the house my friends used to live in and  remembered meeting me there, years ago i said something like “wow, i can’t believe you remember that” and you told me you remember everything everything about me and us and that time and i felt the flood of fluttering butterflies and keening rising in my chest because it seemed like you had treasured the little things just like i did

that’s why it hurts so much what you did-- again i know you’re going to feel it like really feel it the guilt and remorse you’re going to remember staying up until 4am with me in bed watching “the theory of everything” you’re going to remember me going with you to get your hair cut before christmas and taking you out for ramen for your birthday going to your friend’s restaurant and introducing me as someone special and kissing me at the bar even though you hate PDA

i can’t tell my friend how i feel about this awkward situation she knows i had sex with her brother but i don’t think she realized how familiar his apparent rejection was how much it stung having been so recently crushed to death by the other why do i give a shit? i’m moving he should be happy but god damn if i don’t feel so very old and so very alarmed i, too, was a 22 year old girl dating a 30 year old man, so who am i to judge? i can’t help but bite my lip and taste the bitter, copper jealousy he was somewhat of a relief, after so much pain and i really wanted that relief again.

i can’t tell if my body is getting stronger, or turning inwards i feel the muscles under the skin and fat in my stomach and i am  pleased but i feel crooked, uneven i want to be thin and lithe like the girls i so admire though i love the curve of my hips, the flesh that men desire i love the mass of my ribcage, how solid it is i want to be delicate, strong, but delicate...

slowly i will become who i am meant to become, but fuck how many scars must i accumulate self inflicted or otherwise?

yesterday i found out my ex... “ex”? has cancer

meanwhile,  so does the “ex” before him who i am now involved with again

two in a row have i cursed these men? never have i cast a circle nor vehemently wished ill upon them, ceremoniously but maybe my broken heart  has cursed them well enough

joke’s on me for the one who sleeps in my bed kisses my arms and the top of my head who makes me soup when i am sick holds my feet in his lap when i am bleeding out his cells from my womb

he who was once an ex is now a why and i don’t want him to die

but when the girls cry the boys are no where to be found?

i used to paint the men i loved immortalizing them in oils a labor of love to make them gods

but they all left me broken my paintings cursed me a living dorian gray

i stopped painting the man i loved still left i stopped painting me, too

“hey you.” hey back atcha.

“what’s up” oh, i was fast asleep. it’s 2am you know. but nothing much. come here to me.

“it’s good to see you.” i wish i could see you every day for the foreseeable future.

“you have no idea how much i love you right now” i love you, i think

“no one has ever done this for me...” that’s sad, you work so hard. you deserve a good meal at 4am, dear.

“no one cooks for me.” you cook for everyone else. i love cooking for you.

let’s fly south for the winter or drive with my feet up on the dash leaving toe prints on the front window windows open as our mouths and teeth are wide in happiness

i am afraid i would follow you wherever you would go and abandon my plans my idea of adventure, alone with only my little cat as companion yet here i am thinking... what if you did move to denver i have family there i could follow you

would it be so bad? to give you everything i’ve been holding back in fear you’d take the last few heartbeats i’ve got to thaw and make them melt into puddles i drown in

for now i’ll bask in the frigid winter sun and hold onto you by moonlight

your mouth still tastes like coffee and cigarettes bourbon and dark chocolate your skin is sweat and toil tangy and salty and addictive

so what if i am a little awkward a little shy you don’t seem to mind you only pull me closer spilling fire and wax on the floor and consuming my giggles with an eager mouth happily smiling into me and  kissing my face over and over the way i kiss my kitten’s little head

you aren’t afraid to run your hands through my hair others seem to be you grip it like a lifeline you touch me with such attention i am spoiled by your hands and i need it so badly i forget to ask questions which is good, for i over worry

i was counseled to do something for myself to observe when i do and i am taking you for myself because this is what i want maybe what i need

so while one lover spits words of poetry how he hopes one day we will meet in a manner  as beautiful as we met first another steps out of a subway stairwell and back into my life.

we are both harboring a sad, sick heartbreak he dwells on the unluckiness of his life and i dwell on trying not to give him my light and the unlikeliness of our encounter.

do i risk you again? even if just for a drink or two i don’t trust myself to not play the game i could ruin you this time all i know is that i just can’t, can’t be the light for you without extinguishing the feeble, flickering light i’ve ignited for myself.