to the person who bought me a thong

Thank you.

Although I do not know what to do with it,

I had been wanting a gift.

You see, Daniel promises

he bought me something,

and although I can't find

it he insists it's hidden

somewhere in the rubble of my

crumbled heart.

Underneath my sweaty sheets where

I toss and turn in the summer heat

and my mattress that has yet to see action,

are the remnants of hope

tossed aside like a pair of old gym shoes.

Filed between my chemistry notes

and Spanish folder is my joy,

neatly stored for future use

but gathering dust as we speak.

Beside my Moleskines and tubes

of watercolors are brightly colored

pastels of peace of mind, waiting

to be rubbed and smeared

on the blank sheets of

my future, their tips still whole,

unused.

And there, encrypted and saved

in a secret file on my C drive

are my dreams, waiting to be unlocked.

You know,

I don't care that he has lied to me.

You see, I searched my room.

I found no iPod or fancy hat,

but I did find a map

marked with Xs on all of my treasures.

I think I'll find them soon.

I think I'll use them too.