a girl was flat on the stairs, thighs out, skirt rucked, convulsing. a boy hovered over her on the phone. not my problem, i chanted to myself as i slid through the ticket gate, raked my eyes over ten kinds of instant miso soup, ate my quick dinner, brushed my teeth and slid into my soft bed.
i still remember how her straight black bangs fanned out perfectly over her forehead, her porcelain skin glowing with the soft pink flush of a cherry blossom’s petal. her serene expression as the soul punched its way out of her chest again and again.
Little one, stitching shoes all for thanks and a bowl of warm milk, stitching, stitching, but never seen, footsteps in the cupboard
a girl was flat on the stairs, thighs out, skirt rucked, convulsing. a boy hovered over her on the phone. not my problem, i chanted to myself as i slid through the ticket gate, raked my eyes over ten kinds of instant miso soup, ate my quick dinner, brushed my teeth and slid into my soft bed.
i still remember how her straight black bangs fanned out perfectly over her forehead, her porcelain skin glowing with the soft pink flush of a cherry blossom’s petal. her serene expression as the soul punched its way out of her chest again and again.