Glass (Crank 2)

easily

distance myself from

him. But I want

someone—other than

a baby—to love, and

soon.

I miss feeling special.

Miss feeling beautiful.

I only hope I haven’t

become

impossible for a guy to look

at with lust in his eyes.

Halfway Home I Stop

For a small pick-me-up,

not because I particularly

need it (my eyes are wide,

wide open), but because I can.

I have stash. It’s talking to me.

One little hit, my heart revs

high, then settles into quick-

step mode. How I’ve missed

that race and pound. How

I’ve missed the lack of control.

It makes no sense. I know

that. But I’m sick of making

sense. Sick of being sensible.

As I consider that, it hits me

that I haven’t called Mom.

Now it’s much too late.

Is she pacing the floor, ready