Forgive me.


There is a hollow place in my gut; the center of my soul scooped out as if it were a melon ball. It allows my spine to move forward, to press against my belly. It allows me to count the rows of bone; it allows me to count my failures.

I cannot give you that which I do not have. I can not promise you that which I do not hold.


I am full of wonder and awe, but only when my panties are on the floor. You will never love anyone the way that you love me - no one else will bare their throat to you; no one else will turn the other cheek; no one else will beg for you. I am not the one you tell your secrets to. You will always be more interested in my naked body rather than my naked soul. You will never know my middle name. You will never ask. Instead, you will know how to make my toes go numb, my eyes roll back, my skin expand and melt away.


The twilight did not seem to last quite long enough today. The days are way too long, the nights way too short - the middleman of the universe is a disappointment to me. The moon and sun have made my throat grow tired. I am tired of talking to the skies.