depression's got me in a headlock

i'm on vacation
so my mom told me
to write about the beach

this is for the sticky fingerprints on the car windows
and the faces you traced with your index finger

the ice pops that dripped onto your lap
the way your sister's hair curled
and the days when you didn't have to worry
whether your mom would love you in the morning

but this year the seagulls didn't replace
the crows on my shoulders
and the waves pulled me out
instead of pulling me in

the rain ate at the pavement
but you forgot how to
and the sun smiled
like you fucked her boyfriend

she was out for blood
and the clouds were boys
who had gone without their mother
for too long

my stretchmarks apologized
like ex boyfriends
but my name still wasn't safe
in their mouths

the sand were men at the bar
who didn't hear the word no
and the mermaids didn't remember me
since i forgot to shave my legs
and buried my eyes at the foot of a grapefruit tree

the sun cooks my blood
my swimsuit doesn't look the same
i don't want to go outside
but i can't say no to all the pictures
and

i want to run away
i want to run away
and if heaven called i'd answer
but i'd still leave hell waiting on the other line

my footprints are stuck in my throat
along with September receipts that hurt too much
to read out loud
and letters i never had the right to send
and my red hair was left on the highway
next to the roadkill

but i still have my ribcage
and i think that's important

i wished upon a star
but both were dead in the past
along with my 11:11 wishes
and striped birthday candles

you left me your god
but i never did more than initiate awkward eye contact
from across the room

i'm just remembering the boy who hated the sand
and the way his hand reached for mine
as we were dragged out of the water park together

i saw my body cold on the sofa
my hair sewn like fringe on a vest
the basting stitches securing my shins
and my mom blaming me for the stain ten years down the road

and no matter how high the ends of my lips
the voices didn't leave my head
and no matter how i tried to bar them out
they repeated the same lines

"you are nothing
you are nothing"

they shot me with their emptiness
and sucked me into this hole in their chest

the sun is still yellow
the frogs are still croaking
the boys are still shirtless
and the world might be okay

but i am not.

i forgot how to dial your number
and how to get out of bed in the morning
showers don't clean me off as well as they used to
and the medication piles up on the counter
untouched

i no longer worship the sun
and i forgot my religion
but read me a poem
and i might remember

the world might be okay
but i am not.

the world might be okay
but i am not.