she

she's an anorexic's rib cage
peering through tangled scarlet lace,
deft fingertips stealing memories of summer
from marlboros
& earrings
from the department store display

& everyone always says her pale skin
is in need of a tan
but she's much too irish & only burns
peeling red reminding her of
heartbreak & childhood "accidents"
lips like sugar
tinged with the taste of vodka-spiked orange juice
staining your tongue before trailing down
a.n.t.i.c.i.p.a.t.i.n.g. limbs
leaving teethmarks on hipbones
& makeup traces on
(already dirty) sheets

she's a cancerous addiction,
like nicotine
& the toxins in your breath
an indecisive mind that races
faster than her palpitating heartbeat
thoughts & dreams & desires
blaring louder than the classic punk rock
screaming revolutionary defiance from your radio
before fading into the sound of august air
she's the pressure of your foot on the gas pedal
that rush of slightly underage danger
making you smile the way no one else can
& maybe even making you believe

& all she asks is that you be her temporary savior
when the fireflies take the light from her eyes
until the clock strikes midnight
& it's finally time
for her to save herself

-fin.