almost

i was almost her.

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i was almost her. almost smart. almost soft.

but it would take an axe to the skull to crack a head made of fuck you’s and do not disturbs and why i oughta’s. and i almost don’t care that they’re mean to me.

because my mom came with a built in switchblade underneath her tongue so i learned how to dance before i learned how to tie my slippers.

speaking of slippers, i was almost a ballerina. but apparently you can’t pirouette your way out of a fight when the stage is a kitchen and the audience is waiting for you to slip.

and i almost did.

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Spoken word version here:

wheredeadflowersbloom

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