her eyes’ curtains closed,

                                        the girl

                                                   murmurs, (“love you too”)

scribbles (idle) words onto (idle) paper.

                        flutter…shudder

she clings to the warmth (she creates) all

                                        (on her own)

these years running

                               for little mis(s)understood.

crying underneath her lids when all she got was

                        one rose

            from her mom and dad.

and she dreams, not lucid, of the only 4-letter word she’s never

                                    (and meant it)

again (she) folds (a) winning (h)and just to(o) be(ing) mis(s)understood…again

                                                she says she’s wating

but soon she’ll have to admit that suddenly

                        the pillow she’s holding isn’t the same as warm flesh

                                    and she’s (finally)

                                                                 in L***

as a rope,

                a thousand twisted fibers:

entwined fingers wrapping round the latent heart(s)

                                 (twisted fiber) swing in backward/forward

(E)MOTION

                        braid the fibers of my being and

tie me round your finger in a double bow (i’ll remind you) in case

                                                you forget:

(we’re not mean, we’re just rock stars, little man)

                        i wish that i had jessie’s (your) girl.

a perfect riot of color,

            she glows with (in)compassion.

            she was never accused of

                                                     exaggerated modesty.

            she was never popular

                                                     but she can teach you how to be.

            social cues, the perfect shoes from the second-hand,

                                                                          used clothing store.

            a perfect splash of water

                                                            melting, (she’s) melting,

                                    and after she dries, all i see

                                                    is the faceless girl who used to be

                                                a perfect riot (of color).