Spent all my money on fuel and alcohol.
Nightmare come tru
I want to be loved and loved and loved
The structure down the street is the same dull and mossy shade of green as the dress that barely covers my breasts.
I sit in silence
Considering my cowardly nature as I bask in sunlight on the wooded porch,
My fingers tracing the edge of a mason jar cradled between my thighs.
I am a seeker of trouble
Nostalgic and needy
Recalling the day you cut your hand on the edge of a cup-
A result of your affinity for clean things
Nothing ever out of place.
You tugged at moss between the stones
And swept it into a pile.
I pleaded for it to stay.
It bubbled up between the stones
Filling the empty space with something living
The moss came up anyway.
You will always have your way