stomachs down on the gym floor

wishing mine was concave

summer sat embedded in the wood, under the

scent of fourohnine and that sweet sweat of

dancer. dolls.

we stuck our feet between lead-streaked backpacks

and laced scabbed fingers together as we

touched suicide with our fingertips

yellow ribbons tied tight around our wrists

(but darling, baby

it can't touch us).


s.u.m.m.e.r has been sleeping in our hair

drinking up our dreams

writing promises in the sky

swallowing the notes in our music and

leaving us with simple


(summer's just through the window,


you're just what i needed.)


we sucked on cinnamon mints

and practiced numbing our tongues

and while your eyes skimmed my neck(line)

and i noticed the way your own shirt stretched tight

over your shoulder muscles

and left a blank spot

in the middle.


so i

leaned forward

put my mouth


(and you know,

he smelled like a

l i t t l e.b o y.l o s t in laundry detergent

and love and


you're just what i needed).


A/N: You'd think after not writing for so long, I'd have so much inspiration and emotion bottled up that this poem would be beautiful. But um, I think I'm losing whatever little talent I had. Anyway. Please review.