242

Your name is 242

Says the yellow paper
At the end of a patient pen
And ballpoint Checkmark 
Readied with fingers, anxious
 to continue shuffling
A deck of cards
Of which I am one
Or 242
But in any case,
zero

Because with one to ten on a scale
 I usually fail around
The part where I protest
That my dress fits me all wrong
And when this lipstick, which is present for 
Each song, each cursory choice
tries to make the air
A bit more pleasant 
and make me seem 
A bit more forgetful
Instead of consciously wrong-
THAT
Is where I fall

My heart is a little less numb
and little more dumb than it should be
But I guess a couple more hits
Is always what it will be
And a couple more scars
Will make me what I should be

I don’t want to be lovely
I want you to love me
Even half-heartedly I’ll stay
If for a moment I won’t be zero
But a name under your 
Ballpoint hand

But I am only lovely
on the tip of a needle
And each side is sharp
So, where the sharp side may fall
So will I, blood in my eyes pounding
To get out, but there only be

242
 tears
To cry

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