Lo • li • ta by CR

Lo • li • ta

Standing next to you,
I feel like such a child.
Bambi without his mother I am
tripping over my own feet,
chasing fireflies in my backyard
and crying for attention.
In your eyes I see something I
read in a book;
fairytales of princes and castles that
are far away from my crooked teeth and mary janes.
They are stories of love and kisses
and warm summer nights
and sweaty bedsheets
and the taste of red wine
and though I’ve vomited stale beer and
smoked crumbled cigarettes
you with your adult eyes
make me feel so
I am tiny not
small and delicate like a lady, but
bruised and minute like a girl,
face blushed pink as I
dream of being tall,
sucking my thumb and
waiting to grow up and
watching you smile
at your own Lolita, who,
four feet ten in one sock
is so much taller than me.

Poem by C.R.

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