I can't be your girl

Not precious, pretty, or petite

I'm not graceful,

and have always been constantly

tripping over my feet (even though I

only wear sneakers), or dropping things.

I never wear heels,

they make me feel wobbly

when I need to be in control.

I cannot lay docile,

cannot just let things happen to me.

I can't help but defend my opinion,

and argue till I look like a fool,

but I'll still put on my makeup.

I hope it makes my mother,

the 50-year-old version of your girl, happy.

Come disconnect the dots with me

Tendrils of hemp belt

tied in a neat knot

but not making its waist

Ceiling fan drooping

cannot stand the weight

of a heart too whole

their hands

around a neck

suffocating

The rope is durable,

but she is not.