there was a girl.
i only noticed her when she dyed her hair
bright red.
she sat in front of me in english class, always doodling
dark scratches, sharp edges—i watched the graphite smudge
on her fingertips like smoke from a nightclub,
black as leather.
once the teacher caught her;
snapped over, hawkeyed:
"well? what do you think?"
she couldn't answer and I tapped her thin shoulder,
whispered,
"which do you think is the monster, victor or the creature?"
and of course the teacher caught me but
the girl turned and i saw the dark smudges
bloom up into the shadow of her sleeve.
she smiled
and i thought it was so cool,
the sadness in her eyes.
(Jesus Christ.)
YOU ARE READING
OH GOD, THE POETRY
PoetryIt's been a long time since I came back here. Sheepish middle school memories abound. I should be kinder to my younger self, who only ever wanted to love somebody without submitting herself to the awful breaking-open of vulnerability, but god, it's...
