30 poems in 30 days: Day 24 (Belated)

The Autobiography

And here’s the one thing you should know about me,
I’m worried, constantly, worried I’m not pretty enough
Or your not pretty enough, or you, when I
Tripped over that word earlier you stopped loving me,
Worried you wonder about me too much, not enough,
Just the right amount to not particularly wonder, I worry
You wrapped your car around a tree on the way home from
My shitty one bedroom and it’s my fault your dead,
And It’s my fault you’re sad, and it’s my fault your car battery died,
And your hair’s too short, and the milk went bad.

And here’s the one thing you should know about me,
I like the two inches on your forearm below your elbow,
I like the way the sun rises in your eyes in the morning,
I like the way you smell like newborn babies and sleep,
I want to kiss your cheek next to your nose and I want you
To roll me like so many quarters against the squeaky bed frame
Until we buy ourselves 10 dollars in time every morning. I want
To sleep naked, with my body and your body and the sheets
And the cold night air that creeps past the window frame.

And here’s the one thing you should know about me,
I am the loneliest girl this side of main street, this side of
The cross walk, this side of this line in the driveway, because
Everyone’s lonely, and everyone’s lonely like me. I read too much,
Lock my head like a safe, a safe with a leak that springs at
Critical emotional mass, like ants from a hole, like a whole lot
Of nonsense that keeps one person on one side of a driveway
From another person.

And here’s the one thing you should know about me,
I can love like its nobody’s business, love like the walls are falling in,
Love like Niagara, keep it coming. Love like birds and bees have nothing on me
Love like you’re sick and I’ll still kiss you on the mouth, love like
Your worst and my worst are two pieces of the same vinegar pie,
Love like your best and my best make out in the foggy window shelter
Of our mother’s old Hondas, because we can love like we’re 16,
Like the sky is falling, like the world is ending, like its just you
And me and the radio and the fuzzy dice and no one’s lonely,
And all the best things to worry about are coming.