born again virgin

yeah i guess it’s too late to kill myself.

at this rate, i’ve spent so much time keeping

myself alive that i might as well bandage

my wrists and take the rocks out of my

pockets. the way my skin rests on my bones

makes me nervous. the knowledge that someone

else has touched me, has seen me, knows about

me — it’s unbearable. but science says

in seven years i’ll have all new skin and

it’s been 1 month since anyone else has

touched my body. i guess i could

elaborate and say i’m thinking

about going to a gay bar to hook

up with strangers ever since things got called

off, but that should be expected of me

at this point. the best way to get over

someone is to have someone new to spill

all your secrets into, to put your mouth

between someone else’s legs, to have

a stranger’s number light up your cell phone

screen. i know i’m, like, ugly, but i’m funny

enough to get laid, and good enough in

bed to forget anyone else has

ever slept with me.


Lizzy Ann is a New England poet that often writes about New England and the horrors that come with living there.

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