I’m addicted to romantic intrigue
incoming texts, rising action,
the way he stares at my ass the way
she holds my face, the money I spend
to become more beautiful, the money I charge
to behold my beauty, I look out the window
of this speeding car, under my spidery false lashes
and I feel jealous of the Manson girls

I’ve been trying to make people fall in love with me
before the sun sets on the
third day. But the youth
is draining from my face, and the sand
is filling up the fat bottom
of the hourglass. I search “how to look
neotenous.” I rock and rock on my
hand, imagining I’m a trembling virgin
in ripped chiffon

Once the theater goes dark, I bend my small body
under the crook of someone’s arm,
my wet breaths like a girl puppy,
I take the blue ICEE straw in the corner of my mouth
and offer my cold, sweet tongue and my heart
is beating so fast

You won’t believe this, but nobody ever hurt me,
it was more like
a prayer

Baby can we go again it’s just that
I’m always so bored


Sascha Cohen’s poems have appeared in Defunkt, Stanchion, Salamander, Autofocus Lit, and elsewhere. She’s @ethelmermaid on IG.