sixteen

She's a visual reminder
of what you feel
that's why she's become so
dangerous
You can hide from yourself
but you can't hide
from the way she makes you feel
There is no pleasure in her presence
just an aching, empty spot
and a cauldron of anxiety
threatening to overflow
Keep it together
you tell yourself
keep it together
but it's not doing any good
Your words, your thoughts
have become strangers--
and the most impolite kind of strangers
I want to run
I want to scream
douse me with gasoline
burn me in the street
until I am clean
Looking for trouble
seems to be my new addiction
and trouble is staring back at me
from every mirror
There's no going back
for the pieces I lack
there's nothing in her eyes that I need
just my own enumerations
and endless conjuring of ghosts
of when I was sixteen.