Hell is empty. All the devils are here.

I am coffee bean breath in the morning and the accidental lip nip of an awkward first kiss by lunch. I'm an unopened box of Marlboro and blunt bangs sticking to a nervous girl's forehead. I'm not trying, are you?

With red lipstick staining my teeth and crystalline tears clinging to my eyelashes, I'm angry whispers and intimate conversations with complete strangers. I'm streets without sidewalks. I am boxed wine and Adam's apples and crossword puzzles you've given up on and forgot about. I'm lonely, what's your name?

With hair trailing to the small of my back, I am cinnamon sugar freckled shoulders and nausea. I am the sweat perfumed sheets after a nightmare. I'm your guilty radio song you sing along to and hope no one ever knows. I'm whiskers on kittens and I am sorry.

With feeble steps, I'm tight curly locks of healthy glossy hair and car insurance. I'm ashy white knuckles and overpriced lingerie. I'm fistfulls of inhales and exhales and premature lust. I'm fine, how are you?

Falling into bed, I am the zit you crush against your pillow and hope gone before picture day and the missing button on your sister's sweater. I'm thirsty split ends and commercial breaks. I'm your feet after high heels and I'm willing to forget if you are.