year
i would like to tell you what it means to live in this stillness. i would like to tell you about paper hearts and that feeling in the pit of your stomach that says i will never see you again. i would like to make these particles tangible, so i would have something to work with. my mother calls me in a panic, and i hold the phone away from my ear. i paint my face and stare at men twenty years older than me. everything you think you know is wrong. i would like to leave this place. i would like the stain of my intentions to disappear. i am a marked woman, you see. i'd prefer the finality i most certainly lack. i would like to write stories about girls other than myself. i would like to talk about anything other than love. i will take the ambiguity out of your half answers and i will wear it like a prayer. i am atoning for your sins tonight, love. i chose to sacrifice this. i built this altar. see my lungs here in my hands? do you understand now?