It’s all Choreography, you see,
How I know just what to say,
How I smile at your life,
My enthusiasm about your new boo.
Don’t worry,
Don’t worry,
Don’t worry your perfect little head,
About my loss,
About my body,
About my hair.

It’s all Choreography, you see,
I’ll probably tell you about the one good day,
Some award I won for being nice,
And spew some pseudo-intelligent *******
But I know
Oh, I know
I know all too well you’ll see through me

It’s all Choreography, you see,
I’ve been training since I was five,
It’s meticulously planned
And executed flawlessly as
Warm hugs, laughs, kind eyes and sweet, sweet words.

It’s all Choreography, I know
I’d rather do this,
Because,
I dance alone anyway!

I love all of you girls,
I watched you all fall in love
Met your partners
Cheered at your weddings.

I love all of you girls,
The fancy jobs you have
The places you go to
Smiled at the pictures.

I love all of you girls,
As I sit here
Alone at café
Thinking about the time when
It was easier, simpler and just us

I love all of you girls,
I hold your pain with dignity
Life seems silly when you are around
I guess, I missed out
You all caught the train
When I walked along.

I have forgotten what my mind was like
before I met you.
You are the first thought—
and the last.
Who was I before?
Did I write?
Did I laugh?
Maybe.
Maybe my life was simpler—
a quiet loop,
a routine with a predictable rhythm.
Maybe I woke up sad.
I can’t remember anymore.
I looked for her—
the girl I was—
in the books I swore I loved more than you.
In the moon,
but it never looks the same now.
Not since you.
Your words haunt me.
They live in the corners of things.
They ruin songs.
They ruin sleep.
But it’s okay.
I let them.
I look for you in other bodies.
I tell the same jokes.
Nobody laughs the way you did.
I get new answers I didn’t ask for.
It’s silly.
Stupid.
Obsessive, even.
I spent more time missing you
than holding you.

She tied her hair up,
Set out on a journey,
To write something ugly.
It has to be not quite right
A little loopy,
Like looking at the mirror
It has to make people squirm,
Also make them hungry,
It has to be ugly.
It can't have deep meaning!
Maybe it can be about the boy,
The same one who couldn’t spell.
It shouldn’t rhyme!
It shouldn’t make sense really!
It has to be something ugly.
The gods spoke to her,
They said, ugly is good
Relatable, lost in the crowd
But seen by a few.
Those few beady eyes mean nothing,
For a girl who can't see through the mirror
It has to be ugly.
Like the time her mother told her so
Remind people of overflowing bins
The abstract art that she pretended to like
The cesspool of love that she floats in
Try harder now,
This isn’t hitting the spot
It has to be ugly.

You are still alive in me
The way your eyes would find me in the crowd,
How you would smile looking at me,
I was the prize.
You are still alive in me
The short walks, the long walks,
The sunsets, the fireworks,
I was the luckiest.
You are still alive in me
Your hands always trying to reach mine,
Every time the coffee slipped off mine,
I was the silliest.
You are still alive in me
In the long shadows,
In the dialogues of that action movie,
I was dramatic.
You are still alive in me
I’ll imagine her hands,
I’ll imagine her face,
I’ll imagine her smile,
I am defeated.

I see in your eyes,
Two shallow pools of white with coffee mixed in,
I tremble before them,
You judge me too hard.
I hear it in your words,
The desperation reeks,
Its care you say,
I don’t feel it anyway.
I see the way you are,
Insincere and shapeshifting,
You’ll love conditionally
‘Don’t worry’ you reach your hand out
Each time we touch I die a little more
Its scary out there,
Look in the mirror to feel safe
My mind puts up a fight
So I need you all again
The pity holds me well
Well enough to try again