Let me tell you a tale about how good girls turn bad— 

and I’m not talking about the ones you locate in movies  

sexualized and fetishized— 

I’m talking about those who shroud in unpopular books and gaunt glories 

because good girls are sometimes bad.

They rehearse how to measure their waist and stick a finger down their throat, 

They stop talking to their fathers  

can’t lean at night,

always hushed around their lovers

learn how to scratch and bite

but they’re such good girls, 

quiet and pretty girls, 

don’t talk back, don’t sleep around type of girls,

high on accomplishments, no visibility no variety kind of girls

Remember,

good girls turn bad

and bad girls are not fun to be

around

we will crack your bones and feast on them,  

we will master the art of dying, because bad girls don’t love

I mean they can’t love 

we know how to decapitate, 

rosy cheeks and kind eyes are a fad

everything around us welts and precipitates 

and this is the tale about how good girls turn bad— 

those who reside beyond the margins 

high achievers, young mothers

hushed babies, and stolen daughters

escape the system

don’t approach, you’re in danger 

Remember, 

sometimes good girls weep