The sun was a permanent fixture then,
a golden clock that never struck ten.
We’d wake in a tangle of cotton and dreams,
kicking off covers in messy, white streams,
leaving the bedsheets like wrinkled terrain—
no time for chores, no patience for rain.
The morning was calling, a wild, open door,
and we didn’t care what the floorboards were for.
At our aunt’s house, the air smelled of yeast,
a sticky, sweet, cinnamon-powdered feast.
We’d stack up the rolls, white glaze on our noses,
before the day’s heat turned the garden to roses.
And dinner was paper bags, greasy and bright,
inhaled in the glow of a porch-swing light.
We ate till our stomachs were rounded and tight,
until we were told, "That’s enough for tonight!"
We didn’t know 'calories' or 'bloat' or 'shame,'
we only knew hunger and the heat of the game.
Then it was the water—the pool or the sea—
where we stayed until we were as prune-like as could be.
Skin shriveled and pleated, fingers all lined,
like the very same sheets we’d left far behind.
We’d dive till our eyes were a stinging, bright red,
with nothing but popsicles filling our head,
shoving the cold down our throats in a race,
sugar and cherry all over our face.
But now the water is a different stage,
a mirror, a measurement, a beautiful cage.
We stand on the tiles and adjust every string,
wondering what the bikini will bring.
We **** in our spirits, we check every curve,
losing the magic and losing our nerve.
We look at the boys and we wonder if they
see the girl or the girl’s displaced display.
If we ran through the sprinklers or screamed in the street,
they’d call us immature, a social defeat.
To eat like a child is to 'lose your control,'
to play like a child is 'weird' for the soul.
So we trade the fast food for a salad and sigh,
watching the ghost of our childhood go by.
I’d give every 'perfect' and 'polished' New Year
to feel that unfiltered absence of fear.
To eat till I’m full, to sleep in the mess,
and live in a world with one million times less
of the 'how do I look?' and the 'is this okay?'
and one million times more of that watermelon day.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 1:12 PM UTC
The sun was a permanent fixture then,
a golden clock that never struck ten.
We’d wake in a tangle of cotton and dreams,
kicking off covers in messy, white streams,
leaving the bedsheets like wrinkled terrain—
no time for chores, no patience for rain.
The morning was calling, a wild, open door,
and we didn’t care what the floorboards were for.
At our aunt’s house, the air smelled of yeast,
a sticky, sweet, cinnamon-powdered feast.
We’d stack up the rolls, white glaze on our noses,
before the day’s heat turned the garden to roses.
And dinner was paper bags, greasy and bright,
inhaled in the glow of a porch-swing light.
We ate till our stomachs were rounded and tight,
until we were told, "That’s enough for tonight!"
We didn’t know 'calories' or 'bloat' or 'shame,'
we only knew hunger and the heat of the game.
Then it was the water—the pool or the sea—
where we stayed until we were as prune-like as could be.
Skin shriveled and pleated, fingers all lined,
like the very same sheets we’d left far behind.
We’d dive till our eyes were a stinging, bright red,
with nothing but popsicles filling our head,
shoving the cold down our throats in a race,
sugar and cherry all over our face.
But now the water is a different stage,
a mirror, a measurement, a beautiful cage.
We stand on the tiles and adjust every string,
wondering what the bikini will bring.
We **** in our spirits, we check every curve,
losing the magic and losing our nerve.
We look at the boys and we wonder if they
see the girl or the girl’s displaced display.
If we ran through the sprinklers or screamed in the street,
they’d call us immature, a social defeat.
To eat like a child is to 'lose your control,'
to play like a child is 'weird' for the soul.
So we trade the fast food for a salad and sigh,
watching the ghost of our childhood go by.
I’d give every 'perfect' and 'polished' New Year
to feel that unfiltered absence of fear.
To eat till I’m full, to sleep in the mess,
and live in a world with one million times less
of the 'how do I look?' and the 'is this okay?'
and one million times more of that watermelon day.
DONT WORRY ABOUT WHAT OTHERS SAY! JUST GO BACK TO BEING CHILDHOOD YOU, EATING ALL THE JUNK FOOD YOU WANT, LETTING YOUR HAIR LOOSE, AND TAKING NAPS OUT IN THE SUN!
