tigersaint

the twenty-seventh night:

i spent the night alone, making myself into a girl.

i painted my toenails red, i buffed my fingernails until they shined.

i plucked and exfoliated and mud masqued and now my skin is softer than velvet, softer than cotton that's been washed hundreds of thousands of times.

i shaved and lotioned and wrapped until i was smooth, i perfumed and musked and took all the steps that i learned to turn myself into the perfect doll.

i stared in the mirror until my face wasn't my face anymore but shapes and shades and i felt myself disappearing.

i stood in the shower until it felt as if i had washed everything off of me, until i felt new.

i wrapped myself in a hoodie and sat on my bed, chin on my knees once again.

i traced my feet on notebook paper and wrote over them.

i laid back on my bed sideways and was lazy and bored and imagined how i want things to be.

do you ever feel like a flame? insubstantial but able to burn straight through people if they get close to you?

i imagined the ones i want to mark with heat, the ones i want to hold me close until the scars, beautiful, are tattooed into their skin.

i smiled at my selfishness.

i put on my large dj headphones and listened to music too loud until i felt my shape come back to me.

when this city breathes it is soft, and i can feel it all over.