origami5432

My fingers weave my hair into a braid

Twisting in the experiences I’ve faced:

The “girliness” insults

That say I’m not delicate enough,

The jokes about how I look,

When I was four I wished for five, 

When I’d be in Kindergarten

When I was five I wished that preschool would come back again

Again at six I wished to age

At seven I wished the same

hoping she understands

that poem was a little hasty

i don't even know if she knows

how she feels

about me

hoping she understands

why i blush every time her name is mentioned