This and Other Things I Didn't Want for Myself
I just want you to know that you were always pretty, even as a blastocyst.
You were bundled up like a burrito and we gathered around you like you were a buffet. You're such a delicious treat. Aren't you glad you are edible? I nibble on you every day in my mind, I nibble on your youness.
Everyone sees it, now, how you were and are will be pretty. They mention future jealousies, in saying how you can't help it.
I just want you to know that it shouldn't matter. But it does.
You tiny thing, with the jumbo chapstick, smearing it on your red-bow lips, with your Mary Travers hair, you stole my jumbo chapstick!
Did you know when I was little I applied lipstick to my whole face? Please, take my chapstick. And if you feel like downright eating it, please do.
Just eat the whole thing. That's what I love about you. The prettiness chowing down on it because that's what chapstick is made for. For you.
I just want you to know that we run through fields together.
Every time we spin is a slap on the face of pretty. Who cares if you launch some ships. Not every one sees it.
That I have lipstick on my face and you have chapstick in your belly, and that is what we do with pretty.
Swing your hair and purse your lips the way you've been doing, unknowing.
I just want you to keep running.
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