like you: Jan. 17, 2002 (10:01 pm)

(in the past people have liked this poem)

i. crayola

six years old. racing to the light switch.

quicker, quicker or the robber will grab me�

but only in the dark. blood curdling scream.

find the light switch. a freshly sharpened red pencil is in my foot

and my blood is all over the ground.

ii. grey sweatshirt

she stole my best friend.

i gaze at them laughing in bright colores shirts.

well i have a red shirt, but

i don't want to put it on.

iii. red flowers

eighth grade--i have the flu and a boyfriend.

he brought me red flowers, already dead.

i hated him then--he talked too much of hearts and love.

as i twisted his heard, i was astonished

to find his blood all over the ground.

iv. lacy

red, lacy bra.

let them touch it,

see it,

take it off of me.

but then when i'm in black and jeans they are gone.

i have surrendered--allowing myself to be

grabbed in the dark.

v. blood red circle

around my lips.

too good for everyone, so i won't touch anyone.

my blood has turned cold.

but sometimes i know

(if given a chance)

i could keep thouse flowers alive now.

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