bones of chalk.

.












an old Bob Dylan cassette plays somewhere in the background
and beneath all of the pills and chalk,
I wonder if you can still decipher the words.









we live our days with eyelids
still scorched by the Summer of '09
drooling on Popsicles and
boys with marijuana mouths



quick tongues



and sticky fingers.






and I thought it was fine

because Daddy was never there to tell me
what goes on
behind the walls of an adolescent


scull.







We were flower girls
with our untamed hair
natural
with too much makeup
hiding


every ounce of plastic while
masking
ugly




in transparency.













I lost you somewhere along the way.
somewhere beneath all of the dust,
the chalk that you could never
let go.








and
you'd swear it was etched
in every crevice




every fracture
of your frail bones.










and I swore it would swallow you whole.















Dear Chalk,





tell me where to
find
the same girl that I
conquered
Donkey Kong on Super Nintendo with
when we were twelve.











Lick the bones of depression
anxiety


insomnia








clean,





and toss them aside.














tell them


what a

craving has






created.









show them


how

addiction is





caffeinated.









































.





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