I tell myself.
"Stop before you get hurt."
But I don't.
I don't want to stop.
I'm already hooked
on the way you smell,
on your immature jokes,
on your touch.
But my body fits
nestled against yours,
and my mind meets your thoughts
"Stop before you regret this."
But you know exactly
where to place your hands,
what to whisper in my ear,
how to play rough when the lights go out.
But I can't.
The way your body twitches
when you dream
just feels too right.
"Stop before you ruin it."
But you catch me off-guard
with your honesty
But how could I stop now?
When this is all I've wanted?
HerHow dare you?
Come running to me
when she gets under your skin?
You rub her in my face
like you want
to watch me seethe.
You purposefully prolong
You call me
at two in the morning
asking to see me.
you never actually show up.
"I hate to see you upset,"
and "Please be happy,"
and "We should talk about this."
You want us
to stay friends,
even though I tell you
it hurts too much.
I tell you it's a bad idea
for us to see each other
because you have her now.
"Why? I'm not going to do anything."
And that hurts even more.
that you only talk to me drunk,
that you never follow through with plans,
that I let you string me along.
that you're with her
even though she's not here.
that when you call
tomorrow night at one a.m.,
I'll pick up the phone.
OriginsI am from the North Shore of Chicago,
and sweltering summer nights with no central air,
and the purple glow of the city.
I am from frigid winters and snowstorms,
and Snow Days spent building forts,
and waiting until my body went numb from the cold.
I am from a close-knit neighborhood,
and my best friend living two doors down,
and playing Nintendo in her TV room.
I am from rollerblading in her basement,
and staying up past bedtime at sleepovers,
and reading comic books with her nightlight.
I am from shelf upon shelf of Daddy's books,
and immersing myself in J.R.R. Tolkien's Shire,
and daydreaming of the talking hares of Watership Down.
I am from hours spent alone in my room writing stories,
and declaring at age nine that I would become an author,
and creating my own secret universe with a pen and paper.
I am from a cozy animal-loving house,
and playing with my Rottweiler in the backyard,
and the mailman hurriedly leaving when she barked at him,
and my lizard's live crickets chirping in