tigers in cagesthere's a leopard under my stomachand a boy above my back, feral creatures marking my peripheries. everything is made of hands slipping, curling, gripping my thighs, of cold glass on my forehead, of two sets of bent knees and too much confined heat and...there's a blue gleam from the front seatthat reveals sweat on my spine and dark curls sticking to my shoulders. the moon comes and this space is crowded, secret, shrouded by not-quite-midnight, by four locked
and i love how carefree this is.
Children are always so carefree~
and innocent.
Your little sister has amazing eyes, and such a sweet grin. She looks like a little angel.
Thank you!