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i'm seventeen, melodramatic, and pissed at you.

by Eli Skipp

I.
I switch four seats down the row, for serious,
I hate her hair.
That new boyfriend, he's incredibly ugly,
"I think she's incredibly ugly." hey babe, high five.

II.
Later we'll talk about how I was his first love.
I'm grimy. Like raw.
How he calls me a fucking whore because he's insecure
And not because I dated other men behind his back.

I know I screwed him up, I know his prideful fear is my wrongdoing.
I feel no remorse.

III.
I know this girl who sucks coke up her nose and boys down her throat,
corroded.
I consider her manipulative, and don't think that she knows.

How she'll show up at the houses of people I know,
How I'll take her to parties,
And then get blamed,
"Why did you tell her where we live? We don't want her here."

I talk trash about her behind her back, no lie,
She's my undoing.
I feel no remorse.

IV.
Dollface, I made a list of every word that begins with 'God'
And found you nowhere.

You had sex with that girl just to lose it before eighteen,
You do X because dance culture's the only culture you'll ever understand,
So suck it up.

I used to dress slutty and lounge about your bed like some cat in heat,
To make you want me.

Most days I forget that you exist.

V.
Here's me one-hundred-and-seven-pounds
And throwing up Gatorade and coffee flavored yogurt at four a.m.
The whole time, all I can think is,
I don't even throw up this dirty when I'm drunk
And
Why are you dating that nasty girl with the emo haircut?

She lives across an ocean and I live across Alligator Alley,
I've loved you four years running,
But what are you to her?

Later I'll get a call from my old lover who moved away,
And we'll talk about how he needs to move back to Florida,
Buy a car,
Build an army.

I love him, but I'm going to treat you like shit anyway.

VI.
Me and her discuss how badly we want out.
We're tired of the sunshine, we're tired of the heat.
We're tired of the Spanish and the people.

We're tired of running into all those old acquaintances,
Who remember us fatter and dressed in black clothing,
Who hate us for never doing Xanax or Triple C's.

We know that once we get out, then we can start over.
We won't talk all this shit, or drink this cheap beer.
Once we get to
Boston
Chicago
Kansas City
New York
Everyone will have it figured out.

We'll forget Miami.
We'll grow up.

VII.
I want you to know that I've loved you.
I've defined myself with your sawgrass and your highways.
I've slept with a lot of your men.

I feel no remorse.


01/17/2007

Author's Note: "Talking trash to the garbage around you."

Posted on 01/17/2007
Copyright © 2019 Eli Skipp

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Aaron Blair on 02/05/07 at 03:36 AM

I like how you brought it back to, "I feel no remorse." It makes it feel more intentional. Though, I, of course, have no knowledge of your intent. Anyway, good poem.

Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 02/06/07 at 02:16 AM

i don't normally read a poem that is longer than my computer screen...three words in and i was hopelessly lost inside this. great write!

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