Valentines: Poems by Lauren Badillo Milici

Aren’t We Lucky

            this is the good kind of cliché 

where the boy is the only youngblondething

            left in town & he’s lonely / the way God was lonely 

                        when He made fucking everything 

            even the front lawn in West Virginia / littered with cigarettes like petals 

                                                                                    thrown down the aisle 

and he needs to be 

            the kid who comes 


                        & kisses the first girl he sees 

            as if his heart isn’t already the shape / of a permanent fist 

                                                                        but whatever you want, I’ll be

& aren’t we lucky? 

& isn’t this the part in the movie 

where the boy drunk-stumbles home / and says, I’m sorry, mom

                                                                                    for everything

Your Ex-Girlfriend Comes to Me in a Dream and Reminds Me That I Ain’t Shit

No, darlin’, 
we all want the fairytale:
each of us done up & dressed
in our Sunday’s best 
because we just can’t wait 
to meet his momma.
Do you feel held by him? 
Yeah, us too. You’re not the only one 
who thinks his voice sounds 
like summer / or that his eyes are so fucking blue
you could drown in them / or whatever cliché 
bullshit you purred into the phone 
at four in the morning because you like 
that he makes you lose sleep.
There’s nothing diamond about you;
nothing pretty you could say
to make him pick you first.
He’s perfect—
made of the same plastic 
that makes Ken dolls melt in the sun
leaving all the Barbies
to wonder.

About Lauren Badillo Milici

Lauren Milici is a Jersey-born, Florida-raised poet and writer currently based in West Virginia. She is the author of FINAL GIRL from Big Lucks Books. When she isn’t crafting sad poems about sex, she’s either writing or shouting into the void about film, TV, and all things pop culture. @motelsiren