Poetry / scared little girls

if my heart was nothing and I knew and I know it’s nothing
because you never gave it a second thought during your indiscretions,
if I were the wasteful longing for you that I feel at night,
wrapped up tight in my blankets, warm and solitary and wishing
that you could be the beautiful person I dreamed up
the beautiful person I loved and not the hideous reality you’ve shown me

if hair dye and eyeliner and chili fries could hide some reality
I’d drown in your essence: bongrips and blowjobs—and tears
and I’d roll around with you, laughing and trying desperately to
pin you, to restrain you and keep you from running and striking
I would strike against you and bruise your arms as you bruised mine
reciprocal and unhealthy—my perfect lover, love

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