Stupid Girl

I imagine you’re young face melting into the same sculpted mess most faces of our generation do. Are you relieved that you did not survive? I push my tongue hard into my cheek forcing my features into your smile. Pretty girl. Ridiculous how words can change clay into globs of sticky memory. Now you’re a handmade doll that sticks to mind-molding fingers. I imagine the fine blonde hairs on your arms, you before your life fell apart. Can I still love you after all these crossed bridges between us and you dead? I still want to. Stupid girl.