It could’ve been me. I could’ve been the one you pined over for years. Tossing the sheets and turning the pages. Redrawing my waistline, over and over. Altering the color of my eyes, ever so slightly. Deciding on my scent. Debating if I had flaws. Deciding I couldn’t. Staying up past midnight, dreaming up a monster out of your demons then putting a flower in my hair.

Touched by despair

found time for prayer.


With balanced hands

atop a mattress

you asked god for a finger.







Too bad I’m a size 9.