today i promised him i would write him a poem, about him. so here goes, though i don't know who he is. this might end up being a poem about me because i'm the only person i do know. i get stuck like jammy toddler fingers on these boys sometimes. (but my fingers are dirtier and stickier with blood and cum and tears) my heart melts and freezes back like these popsicles your great-aunt would get you, and they would melt in the car and you'd stick them in the freezer anyway. my heart looks like a loopsided popsicle i guess. which is a great simile, since boys don't mind sucking on it.

this is a poem, for him, about him. i promised him. sometimes i hand people the keys and let them drive me insane. sometimes i unbutton my shirt for boys so that they can grab my heart from inbetween by breasts. interesting, my heart loved so hard it beat itself into the middle. that's what they call a heart concussion. hold up two boys i mean fingers, let me count them. you gotta make sure to wake up every two hours, that's important. use your vomit as ink.

so, about him. i don't know why i like taking care of everyone. why my maternal instinct always comes through. i'm confused, that's for sure.

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today this boy called me the english gibran khalil gibran and started talking about poetry so i told him that i'd write a poem about him. i basically failed