my skin is so transparent in some places, you can see my veins. the shadows live in the hollows of skin stretched into valleys between bones. there are bruises, there are stretch marks, there are spider veins, there are scars. and yet my skin has all the appearance of softness, innocence, and weathering has only made its mark a few times. my common sense and sensibility is rough and callused, but you would think i'd lived too sheltered a life at the touch of my hand. i am small, i am concentrated passion and compassion in a tiny vessel. i am ready to jump to the next rooftop from my window just to see if my wings will spring from my back at the last moment. i wear my hair longer in the summer and shorter in the winter. i long for the ocean, and i love my sidewalks to claim under each of my footsteps. i want an overcast sky with a warm body under my coat. i draw faces the worst, but i observe them best out of anything. throw me around you from your side. let me run to you and clutch me in your arms so that you never lose me. let me be angry when i am angry, let me cry all i need to, before you say anything. bring yourself alone, because that's all i need of any of you, yet it's more than you think you should carry to me.
i am worn, and weird, and waiting.

-d