↳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

vi

i. girls learning how to swim in the murky waters of their skins. diving into the midnight, moon-reflecting water. eyes open and stinging.

ii. our fathers taught us how to dance. young, in frilly dresses, we balanced tip-toe on top of their feet. borrowed their suit jackets at weddings when we got cold, even though they were much too big for us. we didn't have scabbed knees or split lips. our mothers styled our hair just right, with sharp scissors, plastic combs, and hot curling irons. we knew what was good for us, but still, we were dreamers.

iii. a hundred sleek crows sitting on power lines cawing under the virgina sun like a sack of cornmeal. the soles of your sneakers so worn your socks get wet every time you step out into the rain. you're a dust-breather, star-eater, poet wannabe with vicious hands. you want to devour everything. if you met god on the walk home, you'd probably swallow him whole.

iv. you're a girl and you want to kiss girls. every time that sentence leaves your mouth it lands on the pavement in the chalk outline of a body. the yellow tape around your heart reads caution! step back! i've got blood in places where there shouldn't be blood. caution! step back! i'm reckless.

v. girl with a pink switchblade. girl with doe eyes. girl chewing up fairytales and spitting out the glitter. girl knows why she can't sleep at night. girl knows what her love of bandages means.

vi. take the plunge. the water's right there. come on, i see you aching from all the way across the room.