i used to love to point out when you were wrong and laugh at my fingers in your greasy hair and your stale breath and your cold lips. when i spread my legs it gave your life meaning. you put me up on a pedestal but i wanted down, i wanted to be down in the dirt and shit and misery with you, but i think you liked the pain.

i think you liked to watch me drink myself stupid and lay on top of me and kiss my neck in that funny way you do and let me hurt you again and again. and that's what it was, not spelling or pronunciation or grammar or facts or directions, it was me. hurting you.

i hurt you and still you wrote me letters and drew beautiful pictures of me and slipped them into the front pocket of my levi's on the way to class.

i remember when the other drew me. she drew me perfectly, without freckles or moles or pimples, even filling in the spaces where i had no eyelashes from pulling them out. i looked resigned and angelic and flawless because that was the way she wanted me to be and she probably threw it away or burned it but not you oh no not you, my codependent days are over and i'm a narcissist now, and when i enter my room i am greeted by my imperfect eyeless face, drawn and painted by your small perfect hands.

i can imagine your mouth, before you switched to marlboro's

and after i hurt you

round and small, like the rest of you

lips parted

and then not

and then that predictable twitch that i catch myself doing

when i am not thinking of anything

small fingers spread over your belly or

scratching the rubbery rashy skin on your arms

i used to think you didn't know how to be sexy

until i realized that i was far too impatient for

your delicate subtlety.

in your sister's bed i was just that, a big overgrown boy,

drunk and impatient, dumb and horny but i loved you

and i love you now, and i love what you are becoming

you're a big girl with pink hair and you've lost weight and you smell great and your acne cleared up and you don't take my shit as much as you used to, and i'm not quite sure what i should do, do you?

It makes me feel so good
To always tell you when you're wrong
The big man that I am
To always have to put you down
It makes me look so good
To always put you in your place
I can write it in a song
But never say it to your face
To your face