the wrong boy fell in love with me. two years older with a pair of hands i wished would choke me. choke out the lies i'd told him until they were tattooed across my chest in my own blood. hands i wished would reach right down my throat and pull out my heart so he could see i fell in love with the wrong boy. the boy across the street who managed to crawl underneath my skin and wouldn't sit still. and fuck i think i trapped him there because i know he doesn't love me back. so i kissed the boy who fell in love with the wrong girl and his teeth felt like razors against my bottom lip and maybe he knew i was lying. the two of us hurtled down the highway at 100 mph and i was screaming to fucking slow down because when he'd slam on the brakes we'd both get whiplash, but instead he forced his tongue against mine and i placed my hand on his thigh. my neck already ached in anticipation. yet i continued climbing into his car thinking if i spent more time with him i'd forget about the boy across the street, but instead i only thought of him more. i was searching for something i couldn't reach in his ribs and i kept tugging and tugging thinking maybe i could find that piece. i pretended the rib i ripped out was the missing bolt for my hinges and for awhile i thought i was complete, but then i saw the cracks in the mirror and realized i was just lying again. i could tuck myself between your collarbones and let your lips burn my forehead, but once i opened my eyes i would be expecting green eyes instead. and i'd be lying if i said i didn't i think about kissing him while you held my hand. and i'd be lying if i said you didn't soften my spine and aching bones. and i'd be lying if i said i knew what i wanted.
