(no subject)

that first night david and i touched each other. i remember he asked me what it felt like and i said dinosaurs without thinking. i meant volcanoes, beginnings, lava rushing into the sea.

i wish i could be someone other than the girl who says poetic things when she sleeps with you.

and i wish i could have made him into something better than what he is.

it still hurts so thoroughly to think about him. and i hide from something new because i know how long it would take me to keep breathing if i became part of someone like that again.

i remember the night in his mother's new green truck. when he turned on the overhead light and ran his hands over my stomach, saying he wished i knew that i was beautiful.

i wish i knew that too, david. i wish i knew that too.