GLAD girl

i feel like you can
see
right through me, my
lies don't stretch as
far as my legs can. and
then i think, well, if
i'm as sheer as pantyhose
(not the ones you buy
at duane reade, the
ones that estate sales purge
for $.50) then what the fuck?
where do i go
from being a pretty girl
who has nice words?
what will you think
of me when you
see
the ugly?
it's 7 am and
i'm still catching my breath, still
clinging to the clock.
i wish you were here, but
i'm glad you are not.
oh, me, the one with
dreams like moon-tides and
a glass wall so thick...
i'll give this up
soon enough.

~k.