Twelfth Year Lament
Suddenly I'm not twelve anymore. I haven't been twelve in a long time, but I'm always myself when I'm twelve.
if there’s anything i’ve noticed, it’s the way we leave ourselves cloaked in the dissonance separating imagination from social survival; you lathered your skin in soft oil pastels, blended your shame with the shadow of a golden hour: an apparition. no wonder the other children avoided your eyes. two hounds traced their every move, in the key of invisible ink. if the goal was always to witness ourselves on the way back home to our own open palms, why have we insisted on taking the long way through hills? sunken in the empty virtue of adolescence: girls nursed you friendship, their baby inside a fantasy. no one ever saw you levitate over paradise feral, raining royal blue glitter off a red dress. you created the illusion of violet and you outdressed the host. you were shunned for the same reason that writing is also rewriting.




Nice piece Nymphish, I’m a big fan of “Angel’s Egg” too.
Your pies just keeping getting better and hitting harder. Awesome.