I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself

by Marisa Crane

Tomorrow, I decide, will be better. Tomorrow, I will recover from today.

Before you, I was devoted to my devotion to nothing.

There is a reason devotion sounds like motion. Where are we going? I wanted to ask.

That first time, I couldn’t stop talking about wanting you while I was in the middle of having you, as if the act itself wasn’t enough—I had to make the universe know, too.

You’d wanted to know why I was so interested in kink. What I didn’t say: I want to be bonded to you forever.

My mother whom I love even when it is least convenient.

Pop Quiz: Q: What is the difference between nice and kind? A: Only one is a result of fear.

Pop Quiz: Q: What makes Velcro stick? A: One surface is made of tiny hooks and the other is comprised of thin loops. When pressed together, the hooks lock around the loops, securing the two pieces together. Q: What does this mean for humanity? A: We cannot help but cling.

“I could hang out in a dumpster with you,” I say, thinking of you.

I told you I wanted to live in a world in which the antidote to shame is not honor, but honesty.