Cicadas In My Pocket

I dress with a bow
Waiting for Valentines that never come
From lovers who have forgotten me.
Doing my best to look surprised
When the phone doesn’t ring.
I wear my hair long
And my patience thin
Never alone but so often lonely
Like the girl on the playground
Using insects to terrorize boys
Because she doesn’t understand them.
I don’t understand
Why loving you is my own special blend
Of razor blade tea
Sweet and deadly
Eating me alive from the inside
Until I crumble, dried and broken
Like the husks of dead locusts
Carried in the pockets of my past.

-Zoe Richardson