I’m telling you now:
It’s wrong or it’s not good enough
rejection grazing my chin
just before crushing my plastic nose
to let the devil push down my shoulders
I walk out of a surgeon’s office and
onto the shining oak stage
Seven blue bubbles pleading you to say something. I didn't have to warn you. Two phone calls to convey my sincere remorse to her. The girl with curly brown hair even though I knew her name. Weekly sessions couldn't gloss my splinters. They poked through the golden locket dangling beneath my layers and lies. Twenty Xanax rattled as they tossed in my baggage. Heavy baggage peeling my skin. Countless friends sick of complaints. Sick of you. Three months my phone never read your name even though I knew it. I knew it.
Kathryn DeFranco is currently a first-year student at Boston University. This is her first publication.