I want a boy who will peel me like an orange

and keep the rind somewhere close–

in his back pocket or under his tongue

to have me always within reach

and know that I’m bitter on demand.

I want a boy who will use every part of me

in his recipe for immortality

to drink up my fruit cocktail

in the hopes of bringing me with him.

I want a boy who will see right through me

x-ray vision my ribs

and eye my virgin heart

until he wants to pluck it out.

I want a boy who will speak me to sleep

when I’m heartless and peeled thin

and grounded into essence–

a boy who will remember that he was

always the one to do it to me

and that I never stopped him.