She’s got a tongue in cheek
way with her kisses
and scarring, leaving
all these marks of crescent nails
saying “screw you”
Even as they slam against a wall
Brick tiling skin in imprints
saying “fuck you”
She hates the way she wears leggings
with jean shorts frayed.
She hates the way she likes older than vintage diners
and the bottom of a bottle, but
when her hands are pulling hard
at hair she would shear but for the way
it hurts so much.
She learns to hate her a little less
and she punches out a tooth
in a stupid breathtakingly
She leaves her on the porch
as it rains and she hears the
on gravel before she leaves
in a car older than vintage.
She remembers her as that one girl
That one time, that last time.
She remembers her as a string of something she regrets, in the way
that maybe she should have
loved a little more,
bit down a little less.