I fit this in just before the (once again) ill-fated 100 in 100 ended, and it's easily top three, probably my favorite of the bunch. I used the poems of the very talented ladies (I think they're all ladies) of Lost Generation as inspiration, and paraphrased a line by Yvette Thomas.

#175. "The Meaning of Moving On" (05.29.2005)
Afterwards you stuck me in the corner
With walls of the loneliest colors --
Sepias and grays and all the hues
        the sun forgot.
You laughed when I licked your skin --
The hate was enough to choke on, but
I still liked the look and feel
        of you.

Now, I'm not happy but for the years gone,
And I'm sure I am better for
The bruises and the white scars
        of knifery.
You broke my bones between your teeth,
Flash of white; it's a little sweet,
But now, I don't like that
        sort of thing.

I glued myself back together,
Like a little china vase, but
You'll still see the traces of where
        I was broken.
My little dreams Scotch-taped up --
They never quite stay in place,
But oh when they do, it's a much
        lovelier taste.

I figured I was old enough now --
That the silly flirting games men play,
Saying "hey beautiful" and such,
        wouldn't emasculate me.
But some young boy takes a fancy to me --
With his eager innocent smile intact,
He feeds me honeyed wooing words and I
        lick them up.

Maybe the silver flash of a blade
And the post-coital cigarette
Were a more adult way to love --
        but now
I prefer the soft pink of his lips;
The yellow sun of morning together --
It's a little too sweet, but he is just
        what I need.

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