a bedroom table covered in
makeup and bits of jewelry, hoop earrings,
just the wrong shade of pink lipstick.
shoes that don't quite fit,
an awkward walk as a result;
hair she has actively had to stop twirling,
a voice that ends in question marks?
fingernails that alternate
between bright colors and bitten off,
ink-stained sheets from midnight poetry.
when will you realize, precious, precocious girl,
that men loving you
is a happy side effect of you loving yourself?