The-Virgin-Suicide

Today My left hand learned how to write And the candles on my windowsill Watched me like eyes You looked at me like you looked at the sun When you decided Going blind was worth it

They were inertia Bleeding ink across the floor Words like perfect Form within the tiles The pinpricks of light Like the way we chased the sun Sand slipping through our toes The world between our fingers

I'm sleeping on your street now. Head on canvas. Stocking feet. This is life in a cardboard box When it starts to rain And the walls collapse.

I remember everything about that night. The tiny details- the time on the dashboard (10:12), the last lyric I heard ("Come back down here, I'll show you where it hurts"), the color of the car coming at us(red)- stick with me more than anything. And then Grace's words, her last words on this earth-"David, look out!"-before the headlights swallowed everything whole. I remember her hand suddenly reaching up and grabbing mine, the way she looked into my eyes in that last second before the darkness set in, her face full of calm and love and acceptance rather than panic, as if she knew that that was the last image I would have of her. As if

You're the best place to die When the anniversaries Pile on top of one another Like bodies In a mass grave Here lies taking my baby sister to the airport Here lies coming to school late. Here lies a boy named Adolf being born. Here lies two boys with guns and homemade bombs. Here lies sympathy and smoking pot and bathroom tiles.

I have recurring dreams Of tipping glasses And metal boxes And skies that are empty No use crying over spilled milk A blur of blond hair and she smiles and She cares She cares She cares Love me, love me not, love me, love me not Who cares Where daisy petals fall?

I sleep in your folds Soft black cotton Your arms around me And the pillow That cleaned me up When I spilled across your floorboards I'd be content to lie beneath the kissing suns Just to hold you in my arms (this is not a love letter this is not a love letter)

I reached for the cigarettes Over his heart His rib cage I was trying to take them Away From his smoky fingers His bullet mouth I would have one Just to see my hand Turn to smoke

Give me a prettier word for Starvation For ruining my jeans For pills and cola and ice cream Give me kisses on the cheek Hy-phen-ate-d words Bubbles and a safety net And the girl who whispered you and me But forgot what awesome meant.