Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Because sometimes a writing prompt is ten minutes on any item in my bag...

I need it. Now the length of my pinky finger, too dull to be real good. I need a new one. Black is my favorite, but sometimes I go for brown. What I look like without crafted streaks cross my forehead? Fuck a good hair day. A good brow day always make the difference. Plus, it smell a little like a Crayola crayon. I don't know.

It's the last thing I put on before I head out the door. It takes skill, you know? Maybe you don't. Funny, something I get once a month from the dollar store make me feel so some kinda way. Way it lines my eyes and tell folks, Here I am. I'm tired maybe, but I shol am here. I don't need or want all that other foolishness and time wasting paint, but this... this right here!?!

I'm a simple girl. I ain't not girl at all. Girls ain't neva come grown as me. Not me. All I been through and everything. Yep. Whether I put it on thick or thin it's there if you look. See? Blink blink. Can you see? Like what you see make the difference. Silly me. Maybe I'm just a girl after all. Ain't we all though? Nothin' but fass tail eighth grade boys and girls runnin' 'round here thinkin' we somethin'.

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