I live in my own world:
full of swan-necked girls
who wear their hearts on their sleeves and who’ve never
been broken.
the boys have hearts like fishbowls,
big, see-through and fragile. they’re all kind and gentle and they want love
to mean something.

They shouted to the crows, “Be quiet!”
because no one ever loved them, anyway.
And how they cried! Oh, how they cried,
how they cried,
how they cried,
how they cried out
to the birds of the morning.

We sucked the spice out of each other,
we were lifeless, deathless, twilight zone people.
making ourselves out to be fiercer and brighter
than art itself, we were our own legends and demons,
we became our own gods, building sand castles for ourselves.
because in our blown-pupil eyes, I was a swan-necked girl and you were a fishbowl-hearted boy
and we were beautiful.