two for one poems

by bachelorette


my brithday is exactly
one week from today

it doesn't really mean anything

and rarely do I get excited
but I have to be frank;
I hope no one forgets.

I want to be thought of
I want to go to my junior prom
I want to be blonde
and I would kill to be thin.

not svelt
or AVERAGE
(I hate that word)
but skin and bones
with beautiful definition
and painful perfection.
nothing could taste that good.

last night felt perfect:
sitting in a dimly lit basement by myself, but not alone, and listening to songs that could not have been as beautiful/appropriate under any other sober circumstance.

i'm going to stop poking holes
that make it hard to breathe
and stop planning sex with
boys who don't mean it
and stop taking shit
from anyone who gives it.
I'll let go of the vices I don't need.

I want something written in words that
I understand, telling me how to live
and how to die having lived.