It's winter and she tuts at my chapped lips.
Dry cheeks don't need to be kissed.
Soaked almonds and milk for breakfast.
Everything on my plate looks the same through tearful eyes.
She tells me I look pretty when I wear frill frocks.

The flight of a bird is not groundbreaking.
Education is strictly all or nothing.
I need a better smile and a fuller body.
With eyes too big for a face like that, I am not supposed to glare.
She tells me that my feet look precious.

Nothing about grief is sad.
I need a narrower outlook to be strong in life.
Friends are not family and only family forgets birthdays.
Missing socks and broken promises are replaced with new ones.
The tongue must taste sweet lies and not talk back.
She tells me I remind her of butterflies.

But I speak with purpose so that my lips don't chap.
My smile is accompanied by humble crows feet.
My body twists and turns to take her shape.
I don't let things roll on my tongue too long to know their taste.
I just sit and think how far down do leaves bend before falling off the plant?

She tells me I never really did much.