The Girls in my Head

We all had
our own talents,
ways of coping
with the mirror monster,
whatever that looked like for you,
always mocking gestures
and laughing to your face
as you wept with the weight
of it all.

Joy kept up with time,
compulsively checking her watch,
always wanting to leave soon
from wherever she was,
pressed suits,
pregnancy tests,
and scalding baths,
so hot as to feel
as if her very skin
could be turned
inside out,
just her way
to shake off the dark.

hugged trees,
ran through neighborhoods naked,
punched policemen in the face,
and danced in
the fall leaves
until her feet
turned smoke to fire
because she yearned
to fucking burn.

didn’t speak much
at parties,
but screamed in the shower
when her roommate wasnt home;
she quit jobs every two months
just to prove to herself
that no one
and no thing
would ever own her.

Krista hitchhiked to
new towns
and stole cigarette lighters
that she found
in the glove compartments
of her good samaritans,
which made her feel a
wild sort of freedom,
akin to the sensation
of airplane take off,
setting your sights
on the equator and
changes in the weather.

Carrie enjoyed
sniffing coke
in bathroom stalls
and only shared her secrets
with complete strangers
just before leaving the bars
that she frequented
so as to
unburden the twilight
in her skull
but never got too close;
she was a girl
that everyone
fell in love with
at first sight
and she knew it,
rolled her eyes
at their stupid faces,
not even remotely interested
though enjoyed
never having
to pay her liquor tab.

Lisa felt safe in libraries,
and this was the only place
she would sleep,
ripped pages of
Tolstoy and Joyce
out of their hard covers
before closing time,
and held their pages close like hearts,
to wander the streets
until the morning came.

spent her days
working a cash register
in a shopping mall,
and spent her weekends
weeping at the grave
of her brother
who had killed himself
after the war
to stop the visions and loud noises
in his head.

picked up men
in hardware stores,
asking questions
that she already knew
the answers to,
and smirking at herself
at the fact that
she always found at least one man
that was turned on by the young and innocent act.
She tied them to headboards,
left heal imprints on their chests,
and took their cash
while they threw tantrums
at her
that could only be heard
by the ceiling fan.

And in the end,
maybe you
should’ve just left,
wanted to just stomp your foot
and turn me into perfect,
the ultimate doormat,
the caretaker of all your woes and whims,
and then youd love me,
I mean really love me
this time around
as the bruises heal themselves.

Maybe we just die alone
with no one to hold
our dreams together,
just broken glass
and dirty pipelines.

But the moon,
she didn’t want
the hangovers,
the dances in spotlights at parties,
sex behind closed doors,
grocery store small talk,
the boys following
her to her car after work.
She just wanted
to hang and shine,
so she did.

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