I found a poem written by the teenage girl you almost slept with. She mentioned you licking lemon juice off of her feet and giggling, an event which never actually happened. I'm grateful, though one of the first things you said to me was that you had been in love and thought she was a genius. I just wanted you to shut up and tongue my bellybutton.
You said that you had talked to her every day for a long time until she was stolen from you by a boy she had hidden in her closet. You said you cried so loud that you were overheard and cut yourself. I've licked the scar. Your friend, who has a tattoo of Buddha somewhere, said you barely made it. He also said he would slit my throat if I hurt you.
You later said that she sounded like a robot during phone sex and you thought the blood she sent you wasn't real. In response to this, I sent you an entire page smeared with mine. When we met, I put my feet on the ceiling of your car. My nails were the color of milk. You could see all of the bones. You held them in your hands until my sobbing stopped.
Donora Hillard is the author of Exhibition (Gold Wake Press, 2008), Romance (Maverick Duck Press, 2008), Bone Cages: A Lyric Memoir (BlazeVOX [books], 2007), and Parapherna (dancing girl press, 2006). Her fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and photography have appeared in Night Train, Pebble Lake Review, Segue, and elsewhere. She has taught writing courses at King's College and currently teaches at Penn State University.