catieisavampire159

when i was eight, my mother told me that some fish need air to breathe. and then she bundled my hair on top of my head and kissed me goodnight. when i was ten, my father told me that my legs were as hairy as a gorilla. and then he laughed and told me not to take it personally and stared up at the evening sky. *   *   * my mother was a good woman. she liked her coffee medium and her man to be strong. my father was a quiet man. he only yelled at my sister and me while we were so disappointing. at least i wasn't alone. *   *   * i lost a friend in between the couch cushi

she slips under teacups filled with sparkling grape soda. unbeknownst to you, she carves your name into the napkin on her lap. she can't think without birds chirping in her ear, drum(ing) with anticipation.