Perfect

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Walls of glass hold it all in, my stomach, filled with butterflies, that flit and fly as they choose. I feel small as I walk through the room of adults, party-goers in tuxedos and gowns; some remark about how tall I've grown, and I reply as sweetly as I can muster. They smile at me, patronizingly, like I'm just a little kid that doesn't know anything. But these innocent eyes hold secrets, ones that decay, slowly, behind brick walls, ones that no one will ever know, written down on college ruled paper, in blue ink. You're perfect, maybe too perfect, maybe a snake disguised as a bunny. But as I walk towards you, my dress swishing around my ankles, I can't help but smile, and all of the warnings go unheeded. We're the perfect pair; you know I'll save every last dance for you.





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