February 2009
1 post
I liked your red high heels.
They made me smile, and they bent my mind, but I liked them. Your feet probably hurt. You said they didn’t. You have blisters still. All for the sake of fashion. Or maybe just the sake of your red high heels. You tell me to quiet down when my feet hurt. Or when anything hurts. I think that just makes it hurt worse.
You used to give me daisies. I was little...