Girls

Push.

She is a silly foolish girl, the kind that cries while watching Wall-E, she cries when she sees children being scolded at the grocery store. She cries when something ends. The stupid little thing who looks up at you with glassy eyes and says simply, “Hold me, I’m scared.”

The aliens are coming and all she cares about are arms and kisses.

Who can blame our girl? Those little hands grabbing for anything. 
How can we blame her for taking things that are willingly given to her?

That coy voice and light laughter. The phone calls, breathy and needy, “Please talk to me for a little while longer, just this once.”

She needs that voice on the other end reassuring her that the moon will not fall out of the sky if she closes her eyes, she needs that voice to tell her that it isn’t ever really dark. When you have her attention, she’ll follow your voice to the edge of the volcano. And with a light tap she’ll fall into oblivion, happy and content.

And this is who she is until she isn't. 

Until she's a women and in a dark room she listens to her breath and feels her own pulse. 

She isn't scared anymore because all she was ever scared of was herself.