I found this and thought it was charming-- in a high school, sticky sweet kind of way.
 You weigh 135 pounds and have collarbones like an aristocratic 17th century Augustan painting, in the shadows they are chiaroscuro and I want to put my tongue between the dip in your clavicle
 Your father asked you what you wanted for dinner at the beach and then turned to me and said I know you haven’t eaten. I didn’t know what to say. Yes, you noticed.
 A Shiksa in the temple, I cried, profusely, when they talked about forgiveness and thought about my father and when I would forgive him; if; when, if I could, I could find him; what I would do if I found him; the deluge of tears made your family wonder if I was ‘okay’.
 I like napping in your bed as the music plays and the trees through your window in the summer look like a painting, I thought, when I was really high from that shit you bought on vacation. Everything was mauve and folk and you were my face.
 When those people had a keg outside on the fourth of July; when we went sledding down the hill in that park we could never find again; when we broke up and I parked outside your house waiting for you to come outside to kiss me
 You said you could smell my perfume a mile away and you knew I was coming but I guess upon reflection that meant I was wearing too much perfume
 Your chest on my chest was the most exhilarating sensation I had had up to that point in my entire puny life.
 You did, and how you did, and how that skirt would recur again and again
 For hours we talked on the purple phone in my room cause cell phones were too expensive and I took a picture of me talking to you on the phone that night, how nice my teeth looked and how bright my eyes-
 The headlights in the driveway are the last thing, always the last thing, even after it all.