Standing next to you, I feel like such a child. Bambi without his mother I am tripping over my own feet, chasing fireflies in my backyard and crying for attention. In your eyes I see something I read in a book; fairytales of princes and castles that are far away from my crooked teeth and mary janes. They are stories of love and kisses and warm summer nights and sweaty bedsheets and the taste of red wine and though I’ve vomited stale beer and
smoked crumbled cigarettes you with your adult eyes make me feel so young. I am tiny not small and delicate like a lady, but bruised and minute like a girl, face blushed pink as I dream of being tall, sucking my thumb and waiting to grow up and watching you smile at your own Lolita, who, four feet ten in one sock is so much taller than me. Lo • li • ta by C.R.
