who we were

i told them all,

with something like bravery;

"you can't judge.

and besides, she's lonely."

and christmas, it's the loneliest time, don't you find?

elective loneliness at the worst of times.

i've never, in the rare chance of snow,

held a hand.

and who were we?

 

when i was a little girl, i painted my legs white like his pantalons

to save a princess. i spoke to trees taped up on the wall.

now this is where my imagination falls.

never a lonely child, but lonely in her infatuation.

with dark, spider-like teachers...

maybe this, my captivation

with pale-skinned beauties.

a longing to be spiritually devoured.

and a distate for hard muscle that left me

crying in the shower.

for who we were.