so easily we are snuffed, wiped, carved away, swallowed up
pinched like long-burning candles, lit up in dark places where monsters live
it is like final words spoken over an empty casket
when you told me the ways of the world were twisted
and we traveled long into the night, walking in circles
I was scared, but you insisted
savage silence, where you buried me shallow in rocky earth
so easy to fold up your fresh starched arrogance, your pretty words, stuff them in and start the rinse cycle, oh because you’ve done this before
so easy to quiet the willing, pinched lips, choked tears
but you knew that when we met, and i was pretty, like roses on gravestones
oddly yellow on rainy Sundays
to think that I once had 18 years, that feel lead-heavy like 60.
As I wait down deep, in a sea of bones that never sleep
Telling stories, counting sheep, You sing so sweet, you tell me hush
They’ll find me, and remember,
Maybe one night, late December
When you asked me What are friends for?
And when I turned into “that girl”
so easily we are strung up, wooden puppets on thread
For the hungry and the wicked, to leave us out for dead