does that ever make me sick to my stomach
i want to wear dresses but don't like any of them
all the sewers hiss at me
i think it must be my silhouette
my silhouette is different to my shadow
i can't control my shadow but it is trapped to me
waxing and waning like everything else
when it is directly below me it is noon, and i am sheepish
for i am cold still, and have to think of my next meal
there is little time for romance in this preoccupied mind
at least not at noon, when the ground around my feet lay naked
by dinner i am chasing down every girl on the sidewalk to flirt
and my shadow is looking up her dress
i am giggling
i am retreating; i'm 21 but i feel 17 in some ways and for this i feel proud
i have come a long way since i was 17 years old and felt as mature as a dead man
how many times over have i been born since those days
since that day in winter when i reinvested in myself
every flower you grow is beautiful
now i give life to butterflies
i give thought to things
there is still this narcissism
but only two exist now: the I and the World