i know i'm a very common-,
i look like i floss my teeth
at least once a week
and have never worn
like i devour books like candy
and never talked during class.
it's funny when people are nothing like how they look.
so let me tell you something,
let me set you straight:
i'd have you believe
i'm not some heavily medicated girl
with snakes up and down her body
in bright red rows, all raw and scabbed and
constant, ceaseless, neverending reminders of fucked-up and failure...
but it never took much for you to talk me into bed.
letting you think i'm some perfect porcelain figurine
without cracks all up my spine is about as ok as forging your mom's signature;
meaning it's alright as long as it's nothing serious.
and maybe that's the problem.
playing hopscotch cross-continent all summer and
making a patchwork quilt out of our travels when the cold sets in
is a pretty serious stab at giving us another go.
i can deal with touch, i just might shudder
when those hands are connected to someone i care for;
and i can deal with words, i just might retreat
when they get too heavy for me to lift;
i've put my first name with the last names
of too many men i will never marry
to put more than my heart into this.
you'll never get my soul,
but you will get my body and you will be glad for it.
and maybe i look like the word "sex" still brings a flush to my face,
or that reading means more to me than sleep,
and maybe that's true, all of it...or none of it, so what, it doesn't matter.
you will never know me until i tell you.
and i'll tell you when i know.
but let me set you straight:
i might not be able to recognise myself in the mirror yet,
and i might not know how to love or love the right way,
but i sure as hell would rather be a lively whore than a dying prude.