sheer

i think the next exchange may be my jumping pulse

why does the black dress never suit me?

i put my faith in a garment that doesn’t fit

and it pulls taut against my shoulders instead of draping down

im bound in the midsection and my knees dwindle

there’s a bruise i’ve forgotten from when he grabbed my thigh

and maybe it is that the lights in here are too bright

but i am too big, i am too much, it is too soon

i leave it on a hanger and ditch it in favor of words

and bible verses etched on pages as sheer as the tulle, but were just another falsehood

papercuts don’t aid tears but they sure as shit burn.

i traded them in again for a blindfold that he gave me

and kisses that left me oblivious instead, that were simple and opaque and promises seem concrete enough

i held onto a torso and i gave up on purity.

it is miserable and lacking in depth i knew from the dress and bible covers

the things he promised fell through

they have no give, they either hold or snap in half to impale

now i grasp at a bottle to swallow the fix

and pills alone keep me flat and if i remember then i feel well

i think the next exchange may be my jumping pulse

but wherever i go, i go so how can i ever get better

and how can i ever be good?

when will i fit