Plaid minis
Long sleeve shirts
She’s dressed like in summer even in winter
She doesn’t care about cold.
She makes snow angels,
She laughs like a little child
And she cries like it’s her last day on earth
Every time.
She prefers coffee to water
Black
She s reading Sylvia and Whitman
Sadness for sadness cause
Isn’t it sadder not to be sad?
She s only sixteen
And her teachers don’t know what to do with her grades -
She doesn’t either.
She hope she won’t be dead by her senior year.
She writes love letters to the strangers once met
And the are always lipstick
On them left.
Softly red.
Her mother says
You shouldn’t go to school like that you look like slag.
She does her make up on a backseat
While listening to old time rag.
When she comes home too far past midnight
Her dad heavily sighs,
Nobody even asks why so late -
Why should she care about time ?
She had no friends but always
Got someone to hang around
Yet she is lonely, I bet
She claims she s fine with that.
She cries mascara in a bathroom
When everyone’s in class
She wants days be longer,
She’s afraid of the dark.
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Comments1
This is such a wonderful account of being a young woman... thank you for reminding us what it is like. Your expressions are both universal and specific... love letters to strangers with a touch of red, putting on makeup in the back seat, crying mascara... sigh, so trivial but so so poignant,.
PS... I think you made this old man cry, and I don't even know why,
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