manic pixie
when i say, i’m crazy, they hear,
i’m an adventure. when i tell them
about the disorder, they tell me
i am beautiful. i know i am
beautiful. i also know i have
a disorder. when they reach
through the phone
with their words, i swat each
away, one by one (i have done
this before. found
him before. lost him
before). when they ask me
if i drink, and i say, too
much, they hear: i am a party
girl. i will let you fuck me any way
you want.
and it’s true. i will.
they don’t hear the other part of too much, the part that whispers
i will hurt after
you do, i will start
to press my face into your chest, try to burrow
a home out of your heart (they never hear
that part. they never want
to).