Poetry by Zoe Alexandra |

Way Out

It's never been like this before.
I've never been able to say no to anything before.
Now that's all I can say.
Except to you.

I don't know how I'd begin to gratify you.
All of my vocabulary is selfish.
Sometimes I want to drown
when you tell me about growing up
and you were on some special diet
and couldn't eat what your brothers ate,
That you always felt different.
That you shot up at 15.
That I could never be like you.
Strong features
Eyes that carve holes into my face.
The perfect carpenter.
The worst track marks I have ever seen.

Let's pretend I'm lonely
and you're around
and I can hear you inhale from my bed.
Let's pretend that you'd placate me
In a way no one else can.
Let's pretend we'd never speak again.

Hi, my name is no one
and I have a face of wrecked glass.
Don't get too close or it'll slice you.
Don't touch me or you'll make me hemorrhage.

If I could read your thoughts
I'd know that you think I'm fat
With awful skin
And a strange laugh;
Or maybe I'm just projecting.

Let's touch hands.
Let's touch faces.
Let's climb into each other's skin
and never leave.
I want you inside of me forever.

I don't need a compass anymore.
I know where I'm going,
Straight to hell again
With no more drinks to drown in,
No more names to call myself.
I'm finally anonymous.
I'm finally on my way out.

Your eyes are piercing,
Your hair is falling out,
Your mouth is too far away for me to touch,
And I'd let you call me names.

I can't remember what you said about Vegas,
Something about the bunny ranch,
Something about doing heroin.
Your arms were kept separate,
One for shooting coke and
one for shooting dope.
You were always organized.
I have always been polite;
Even when I'm yelling
There's a voice inside of me saying
Be quiet
Just be still and quiet.

My mother used to climb the stairs like an assassin
There were never enough pills to calm her
Never enough booze to shut her up
Her face was a cherry snow cone that day
And I'll always remember it,
At 3 how she wanted to die and leave me
All the blood in the bathtub
All the empty bottles hitting the tile.
I remember the blood but I forget her voice.
I remember her hands, cracked and covered in dry blood.
I remember the towel over her face.

I remember boxes, bearing my name
In pastel cursive, Zoe
I love you
All the letter bracelets
All the handiwork they let you make
In the psych ward.

My father slicked my hair back before school
My father made the PTA brownies
And I became the daddy's girl
You'll always resent me for being.

After too many days of crying
After too many days of holding my breath under water
I promised myself I'd never need anyone again

But I've needed you.

Zoe Alexandra is a twenty-two year old make-up artist from New York City who currently lives in New Haven Connecticut.. She has studied creative writing at New York University and Southern Connecticut State University. Her work has been published in the summer 2005 edition of Deconstruction Quarterly and Best Lesbian Erotica 2007 (cleis press) edited by Tristan Taormino. She is involved in community outreach for recovering addicts and alcoholics. She is currently working on a collection of poetry.