I’m starting to turn into that girl I hate listening to. The girl in my head who only comes out during lonely nights and cold mornings. The girl who wants to shoot any girl who thinks of you. The girl who beats herself up.  But, baby to keep her caged, I think of you. I think of the way you danced with me in your own peculiar way even though you loathe dancing. I think of the fact that you didn’t have a sixth period but you were always there after school as if you did, just to see me. I think about the boy who gave me roses on my birthday and a ring I keep safely tucked away in my drawer. I wear it on my finger on special occasions, or on the rare days I wear pink and the stones match my outfit. I think of all the little knick knacks I have collected over the years that remind me of you. The train tickets, the lucky $2 bills, the starburst wrapper in the shape of a heart and the little ceramic piggy you gave me with the word joy imprinted on it’s hammy side. I envision the cute ass way you squint your eyes everytime the sunlight gets into your eyes, and your eyebrows set into an intense position. I think about the way you kiss my forehead whenever you sense my stress and sadness when you are about to leave my front doorstep. I hear that whispered I love you in my ear. These thoughts help me keep her caged, and I can’t wait until I lose the key to the damn lock on her mouth.