madeline i sent you a text. :cfadesandspinsApril 6 2010, 06:34:26 UTC
he's two days past twenty and there's a girl with a plastic pink smile talking in one ear and it goes out his other. she was funny a week ago at the sahara casino, but it started wearing off the moment he handed her a cigarette when she ran out of her own.
everyone's voice starts out like hers: new, fascinating, like a song with countless instruments and notes to memorize. they all end like hers, too, white noise that he wishes he could find a way to turn off.
there are days she can't feel beautiful when she counts her ribs in the mirror, looks at the flat palms of her hands-- the curve of her breasts and the jut of her hipbones. there are days she feels clumsy and frustrated with her clumsiness and bad-tempered enough that all she can do without swearing is drink. there are days when she wants to cut off all her hair and take off her clothes and let the trees swallow her soft, fleshy body.
there are days that the only thing that could ever seem right is four feet on the ground and and voice made for howling at the mad march moon.
ragnarok comes and the sun burns hot in the wolf-brother's mouth, scalding and blistering in the gaping beast-jaws of the monster had hungered for the blazing star an eternity. it tastes like ash and cinders, like hopes and dreams, like death and dying. like divinity and blasphemy and the vows of gods.
sometimes she feels a little dumb -- bird-brained, she wants to say. her attention span barely has enough focus for hide and seek let alone some of the things her friends talk about and so she starts to spend more time with the red owl because lulu doesn't make her feel slow or clueless about important things. because like madison, lulu just wants to have a little fun with a friend and maybe, hopefully, that isn't dumb.
Comments 15
i'm ugly, she said.
you aren't, he answered. you just aren't what they expected.
Reply
everyone's voice starts out like hers: new, fascinating, like a song with countless instruments and notes to memorize. they all end like hers, too, white noise that he wishes he could find a way to turn off.
Reply
there are days she can't feel beautiful when she counts her ribs in the mirror, looks at the flat palms of her hands-- the curve of her breasts and the jut of her hipbones. there are days she feels clumsy and frustrated with her clumsiness and bad-tempered enough that all she can do without swearing is drink. there are days when she wants to cut off all her hair and take off her clothes and let the trees swallow her soft, fleshy body.
there are days that the only thing that could ever seem right is four feet on the ground and and voice made for howling at the mad march moon.
Reply
ragnarok comes and the sun burns hot in the wolf-brother's mouth, scalding and blistering in the gaping beast-jaws of the monster had hungered for the blazing star an eternity. it tastes like ash and cinders, like hopes and dreams, like death and dying. like divinity and blasphemy and the vows of gods.
like the end of all things.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment