Girl Crush

I’ve lurked on your page
five times this week.
Your eyes are gorgeous
your hair is something
your lips are extraordinary
you are a creature so delicate
in your crafting
it would be an understatement
to say God spent his time on you
your body is divine
a physique that I wish were mine
I’m lurking on your page again
call it a girl crush
call it checking out the competition
I have to remind myself
that I lost the fight
to a fair opponent
I could have never competed
against your quasi-perfection
I’m lurking on your page again
to make sure that I could not
have done anything more
the battle was won
before the I even hit the floor.
They tell girls not to
pin themselves against each other
but how can I not compare
your hundreds of likes to my
pathetic double digits.
But I still like your
pictures faithfully.
A fair game was played
and you won.
I’ve lurked on your page
six times this week.


Where do the Eraser Shavings Go?

where do the eraser shavings go?
I mean after you erase your mistakes
and wipe the pink and grey
little shaving off your desk
you never stand up and look at the
ground and think
“Hey look, it’s the t that I accidentally dotted like an I”
“It’s the apostrophe that didn’t belong”
“It’s the love letter I couldn’t send”
You walk away and forget your mistakes
forgotten on the floor
and they drift away
Holden asks where the ducks go
during the winter
But where do the eraser shavings go?
Are our mistakes floating out there
procreating with some dust
and giving some kid the sniffles?
I’d like to think that my mistakes
just blow away and disappear
because that’s how mistakes should be.
Mistakes come back and they haunt
you and taunt you and you’re forced to
stare at them like a line through a misspelled word.
No one looks for the eraser shavings
because they’re not interested in the fate of their mistakes.
So what do we do when we run out of pencils?