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Isabelle Davis | Electric Cereal

Author: Isabelle Davis

Isabelle Davis used to tell people she had tear ducts that never really closed so they would stop asking why she was crying. She is an editor at Probably Crying Review. Her work has appeared in FreezeRay, Treehouse, and theNewerYork. She can also be found on Twitter.

not yr fetish

one eyelid up one eyelid down pushed in smile
long legs short nails lips lips lips shudder
you are that spider in my shower drain i can’t quite step on making jokes about my shampoo
i am pulling punches out of my purse tonight & they are all for you or they would be i swear they would be if i wasn’t turning into a statue in this restaurant
somebody ordered a skywriter or maybe it’s the clouds sending me a message like SORRY IT WORKED OUT THIS WAY WE WILL DO BETTER NEXT TIME but it’s too late for that

hot snail mail

we will develop arthritis in our
thumbs our eyes will stop seeing
things that don’t glow you
glow like that star i’ve been trying
to land on but it’s on fire & i’m
not a fighter my voice coughing
under the pressure of telephone wires
typed letters drifting in space
get stopped by the nsa
how many men in suits know
i want you to fuck me in a swimming pool
does the time apart make the moments
together sweeter you’re sweet on my
tongue when i’m home but when i’m not
i write haikus in this
journal you gave me think about
sending them in pretty
envelopes mostly they’re about
making you come


he likes to call her baby during sex. maybe all the time. i wouldn’t know; i’ve taken lengths to ensure we never meet. the new presence isn’t the problem; it’s the live-in-boyfriend thing. my roommate says she’s kind of tall from behind & 20 feet away.

realizing i loved you happened 8 months after you realized you loved me, 3 months after you told me about the aforementioned love, and 1 month after you took my non-heteronormative version of virginity. we drove to the softball field for the confession because i didn’t want to tell you in the car. the whole thing was pretty gay.

the single next door used to be empty. now it’s very enthusiastically filled. scrambling for headphones proves pointless. they’re so fucking loud (they’re fucking so loud), i hear her even though i bought the headphones that go all the way into my ear. the kind no one wears running. they have a pretty normal routine of getting up way too early in the morning and waking me up with moans. it’s hard not to wonder how real the enthusiasm is—she can really only tell him he’s so, so, so good at the top of her lungs a couple of times & still mean it.

you don’t sleep. four hours in a night is good for you. so when i’m woken up at seven, you call me and i whisper hello. we talk in small voices because that makes it seem like we’re a few inches away and not 189 miles.

they shower together, but usually they don’t even fuck they have conversations that echo through the bathroom. they wash each others’ hair and complain loudly when shampoo ends up in their eyes.

yesterday blew. you said trying to act normal makes you hurt worse. plus, i joked that you’d dump me if i gained 80 pounds in just my stomach. the body part should have been more abstract, like just in my forearms. as it was, you said if you think i’ll break up with you because of your weight, you don’t know me at all. & didn’t respond to my next 3 texts. we always say we’ll never break up with each other.

instead of reading, i end up fabricating stories about his presumably magical penis.

last night i dreamt about your arms around my waist and kissing you goodnight. when i woke up it turned out your arms still lived in Chicago.

they orgasm together—or at least it sounds like that; i still have my suspicions. when it happens they both collapse into i love you’s. instead of rolling my eyes like i should my nose pricks & i’m crying at stranger’s sex. this is not romantic like crying over how beautiful your orgasm was, this is like a whole new level of pathetic i didn’t know i had in me.

you like to call me baby all the time & i love it. when you’re running your fingers through my hair and i’m wrapping myself around you like a power up in zelda— when we’re together you can sleep through the night.