if you only knew.

I reckon myself delightful and determined,
though never early-rising or fantastic.
sometimes, I call myself rebellious or
wild, but really they're the same thing.





i.
pardon me, but do I know you? you're a mirror
image of the girl I used to be, self-conscious
and dizzyfizzy psychobabble theories falling
from lips that have barely tasted another's emotions;
you're dangerous. you're daring.
and you're really too young to know otherwise.





ii.
and you -- you're eager, small. you know nothing
else but the flesh and you make it known, a
deafening heartache gaping holes in your chest
for something you can't help but accentuate.
because it needs accentuation, of course.
but blah, blah, fuck me a river and pretend
that you are smarter than we know you're not.





iii.
I imagine you damp, dusty. mildew on your nose,
depressed enough to consider ending it. iceeyes
turn disgusted, but it's okay, because he'll take
you back in the end either way to elated smiles
with crooked teeth nobody thought to fix.





iv.
oh, you. you're effervescent, effluent and I
can't get you out of my head for your filling
ways and glue-sticky personality. often, I think
of you with a limelike limelight accent, because
you say things to make things happen.






I reckon myself delightful and determined,
though never early-rising or fantastic.
sometimes, I call myself rebellious or
wild, but really they're the same thing.