you seem like the kind of girl

that watches sunsets

and daydreams on her back porch

does your mother call you in for dinner

while you say

just a moment, mum.

and stand up slowly, rubbing paint

onto your cutoff jeans?


i bet you have a dog,

named Spots or Timmy or Tiger

and two brothers and no sister

but i bet you

wish for one.

two parents, that's what you have.

they kiss while you and your brothers

groan and whine about it.


and here you are, sitting on this curb

next to me,

the girl everyone's afraid of,

and ask why i hate you.


jesus, girl,

don't you know i'd give anything to have that?

it may seem glamorous on

whatever pathetic soap opera you watch,

but i promise having no one there

for you

is about as bad as it can get.


at least,

out here in the suburbs it is.


i'm sick of

being sarcastic

and im sick of

being called a bitch.


but, you know,

that's the only way i know how to be.


don't give me that pitying look,

i'll slap it off your face,

i swear.


i'm not here to be pitied

i'm here to save you.


don't ever give up the way you watch

sunsets or the way

you listen to love songs.

that's special,

that's gold,


and, damn it,

i'd give anything to be like that