the summer i learned regret

it was the summer
i learned regret and
how to rise above it
with august heat
clinging like too quickly smoked cigarettes
and the boy held closer than intended


with his paper doll kisses that burn, burn.

my heart
could use a lesson from my corpse
at this point, but only knew frozen defense
protection from a warm breeze, heat that clings
and boys who hold on tighter. (who taught me
freeze on my teeth like i wasn’t numb already).

the one who loves his, loves with his body

and his hollow inside, whose lies echo
in the middle of the night where my whispers
call back to me (but i was molly bloom;
my voice was the one that comforted me)

we were well-practiced at self-distancing
and i am convinced it's natural to want this

and to hate him at the same time
(pick the
most detestable and forgettable
when you only want disposable love)



picking flowers in the fields you tell me
i am beautiful. the last boy who said that
left me, so i snuff your words with my breath.
(pick the one
who knows tan lines, neck lines and
hair knots, not middle name or birthday).

i remember you picking me up
 from

my parents house where you sweet talk my mother
i'm the only one embarrassed. it's enough
for the three of us. that day, i decide
to always walk the block to your house.

that summer i slept in a twin-sized swamp
on top of the sheets that blanketed secrets
i was too embarrassed to confront and
too afraid to crawl back under, into
the space where i once held your attention.

but now i am not scared to admit that i
admire my calloused feet from the days
i would run away with a smile on
my face (too proud then to ever say how
my block of ice still beat inside me).