How I feel small, you have no idea.
In this house where the windows are wide open at night and nibble at the ankles of the mosquitoes and the shame of the scars that you've done by dint of scratch put your leggings every day and see only the feet, is the first year since I was small I wear sandals.
but I do not want to sweat his forehead under the fringe and wet t-shirt a little sticks to skin and I feel like I had just finished having sex, when you feel a little sticky, a bit dirty, but a dirty player , a dirty smelling sheets hung.
before midnight he was still my birthday and what I feel small, you have no idea.
I have a job and some money to spend and lots of beads around his neck making a noise when I raise a little hell up, and two in the morning, tonight there is a mosquito that comes to mind, there are hands pretending to watch against the to sleep long ago.
I am twenty years and a day and are still three feet high and fifty-five, I still enter the children's clothes.
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