i am too cold, i am too cold
i cannot breathe, it is just so c o l d

and your eyes are whispering icysoft
daggers to me - uglycreepygirl, look, look -
i can hear them, hear the popsicle words
as you snicker behind painted nails

as though we don't see each other in the mirror after lunch, every day without fail.

(i am fixing my fa├žade, my careful lack
of make-up; you are wiping your mouth and reapplying
lipstick after purging yourself of whatever
you managed to swallow in front of your friends.)

in the bathroom, we are accomplices, partners,
hush(hush)sick girls, slipping hints and tips to each other
for days of fasting and how to avoid failure.

but when we reenter the real world (always
separate, tell-tale time between my exit and yours,
leaving behind the fairy-tale haven for thingirls)
i return to my friends, and you to yours,

and you slip coldhard daggers into my
frozen eyes, refusing to admit what we share
when no one else is watching -

and oh god, i am so cold