you are so small like this. curled up in your white sheets. the rain beats down on the windows and i cover my face in my hands, i'm tired. i'm so tired of feeling so scared all the time. i'm so tired of being scared of you.
you told me you liked me. like liked me. that you wanted more than just sex with the most heartbreaking sincerity in your eyes i felt so fucking filthy, filthier than the dirt under your boots. so fucking bad for letting you get tangled up in me. don't you know that i end up hurting everyone around me? i almost killed my mother when i was born. i hurt my friends every day just by being the way i am. my father. my sister. gabriel and zoe and camila and sol, god i hurt camila so bad, you don't even know. don't you see it? unbutton my shirt, make hickeys on my breasts, unzip my skin and there's nothing but air. i only end up letting everyone down.
i don't say anything. you fidget, while staring at the ceiling trying not to cry and i want to rip my hair off my head. you grab my hands and remark how cold they are and my hands are always cold. do you know, my
(love)
friend, the most common catcall of mine is "doll"? the construction workers and the business men. when twenty somethings give me back my change after i buy cigarettes. when my family members praise me, when my friends compliment me, that's what they say. i am a doll. "sos una muñeca!" and i smile and do a little turn at their bidding, blush like a virgin, stare at my shoes. i am not made to last forever. i am made for you to use as you wish for how long you need it. i will say what you want to hear. dress me up however you like. touch me anywhere you'd like. tie me up, undress me, tear me apart. braid my hair, giggle at my smile, kiss my cheeks.
but then, sweet child, you'll grow out of it. you'll grow up and you'll realize i am made up of hot air and plastic. you'll toy with me whenever you remember me and then leave me under the bed where i'll make friends out of dust bunnies and forgotten earring clasps. i'll sleep lulled by the calm tide of your slumber. i'll return some of the trinkets you dropped so long ago, or that turtleneck you hadn't seen in a while. a relative of yours will gather me from the makeshift home i made while you lived on in oblivion, sell me at a garage sale and it'll start all over again.
your hands are so cold, you say. and you press your face to my chest, right next to my heart, and whisper, almost beg me to say something. i can feel the wetness of your tears and i do not deserve you sweet lover, i should've never done this to you, i should've know the moment i crept between your legs and you sighed my name like god that i was going to lose and we were going to get hurt.
and the coffee is hot but my hands are still cold, your eyes are cold now, as you tell me that you'll
wait
and when was the last time i heard that, huh
but you'll realize
you'll see that when you
get up close and
unzip me,
i have nothing to give but my everlong smile and lithe legs
i am a doll,
i am made of air.