I can’t help but remember
how big your hands were

I thought there was no way those hands
could bring about a soul
as far gone as mine

and I don’t think I was wrong

driving hours through the night
just for a chance of someone holding
the last piece of my heart
was always enough to drag me out of bed

now I wait for a text message from a stranger
living in California
and only looking to chat for a few minutes
while he waits for his ride

those are the people that will let me inside
but won’t touch any part
that is too visible

your hands could cover my eyes
and I think I’d still see light

even though I’d rather not see at all

I’ve got scars that prove nothing,
that I think I probably inflicted on myself
and pretended it was someone else

my mother never noticed that
but she was quick to see when
I forgot to put on the same two socks

I blamed a lot on the dryer,
telling stories to my older cousins at 2 in the morning,
watching their eyes move when I said a dirty word

they would use me,
I know,
but there was something disturbingly satisfying
about being in charge
I know how to fake a bruised ego
and wear my pride like the badge
someone else threw away

but I still can’t dance
to a single tune.

03/01/2009

Author's Note: but they'll still want one

Posted on 03/01/2009
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