Dear Carly Rae Jepsen,
I’m 3 years above 14 and I learned a new feeling – desperation! All my motivation is caught in my hair tie. I feel like I’m either having a stroke or a heart attack or both at the exact same time. It’s like when kids use a magnifying glass to set ants on fire except the ants are my heart. I’m going to end up living in a Payless if I don’t fix my soft serve legs and laffy taffy brain. Now I understand why you love the stagnant.
Dear Carly Rae Jepsen,
You whine all the time but I think it’s rad, honest. What’s it like to be so permanent? Wringing out the details of every melodrama from each of your vertebrae. Milk my brain and take my life. You could use a little orange dye. I typically try not to see my friends with tissues for spines, letting their bone marrow leak out into their shoes. Are you okay or am I just mean? I really am trying to be better about this.
I want to screenshot your violet breath
Pull the filaments out one at a time
I’ll wrap them around my fingers, baby
Become a pixelated heart attack
Do it for me won’t you? Be my prayer
This is all day heaven (emergency)
(code purple code cherry code gold gold gold)
Bury me in static before you go
Next to the rabbit with a cavity
Spilling galaxies out of his small mouth
Roots of bone extend from the bottom of
My friends. Wrapping around and encasing
them in a prison of zen. Me as well.
(magic is found in your girl’s eyelashes)
To My Dearest,
I saw you at the Super Target last night. You were in the aisle with the laundry detergent and fabric softener, running over each label with your fingers. I wanted to run up to you. I wanted to squeeze your hand until my tendons phased into yours; I wanted to press until my bones shredded through your hand and up your arm, making ribbons of muscle and love. I wanted to step down on your chest, feel the snap and pop of each bone beneath me; your deep frothy blood filling my shoe. I want to feel it with every step, every step while I’m carrying you to the place. The ‘used to be ours’ place. The ‘place before you ruined us’ place.
You don’t use Tide anymore. I don’t like that. I don’t want to think that you’ve changed. I ruins the idea I’ve had in my head- to gnash at your shoulder and keep some of the pieces in between my teeth as a reminder of you; the taste of salt and iron would be my hug, would be my “I love you more.”
I can feel you laughing at me. My injunction keeping me away from you. But, I know you will regret it. You know I’d never hurt you. We will overcome this someday, and then we’ll rip through our skin together and tie all the pieces to one another.