Beautifool.

Don't look at me.

:You are whispering, in the dark, taking your clothes of shyly because you think you like him. Beautifool you are chanting inside, I am, in this most vulnerable state of my being. And one day he will appreciate it.

You fuck people to get them to like you.

You fuck people so that you will get the intimacy you need; just enough to keep you soft and green for the blossoming flower you are...with your tiny shinny green stem. So weak that if he treats you harsh you break and turn your neck down to the ground.

You still entrust your body into his hands. Maybe this one will be gentle this time and caress you until the spring comes.

You touch their trunk, the trunk they created by hardening their skin just to stay high and strong and invulnerable. You touch their dead skin, knowing they won't feel a thing but you still try.

'cos you don't wanna change who you are. You don't wanna become the tree, not yet, not in your 20s at least. Gotta keep the little girl inside alive. Gotta stay pure and innocent.

What can I tell you my beautifool sister?

Just walk away, with all your grace. You don't need my voice, girl, clear your throat, you have your own.