a/n: possible trigger. don't say i didn't warn you.
they run out of gasoline outside nebraska,
stuck in the cornfields of a town she can't remember
the name of. he pulls over to the side of the road,
complains that there aren't any condoms left
we've gone through three boxes in two days,
can you believe it she says no she can't believe it 'cause
she doesn't want to but she doesn't tell him this. she just
rolls up the skirt he bought for her in idaho that's now three
sizes too small (her period was left behind in pennsylvania)
like a good little lolita and unbuttons her blouse so he can
dip his head and bare his teeth at the moon like a wolfboy
she admired in her books one upon a time ago and
eat away the flesh that hasn't belonged to her in years.
she'll let him in tonight, if only for a little while, 'cause
if there's one thing little lolitas like her should know it's that
she can't walk away but she can't look back.