"We try to love what cannot be tamed. Wild horses,
clear vodka in shapely bottles, angry men and the things
they carry. We have done what we could. They say
anything they can to justify leaving. That we are
always sad. That we have let our hearts burn out
for lesser things than them. They accuse us of being
too sad to love. We’re not sure where we’ve learned
this, to want the things we know we can’t have.
We put on a dress, any dress. Lick our black lips,
pin up our hair. We have learned to kiss boys
with our tongues in the dark. They say after,
there is fire in our breath when we sleep. Chances are,
we are all the same, riding high on velvet blue nights.
Our weaknesses have names and phone numbers,
addresses we can send anonymous letters to,
detailing our escape. We are praying for sixteen again,
for tulle and prom dresses and clear skin and boys
who still have to ask to hold our hands. They say
they can find us by our cheekbones, that they are
small, miraculous sources of light. We’re doomed
without our mothers. Sometimes we’re safe
but usually we’re not. The crime scene tape
should have been your first clue."
"Anytime you’re gonna grow, you’re gonna lose something. You’re losing what you’re hanging onto to keep safe. You’re losing habits that you’re comfortable with, you’re losing familiarity."
"Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know."
"Smooth out your skirt and do not look at him"