keys
I look down at my keys. there are all these little clues. So many rhinestone girly keys. too many really. I cheat. Some are from old apartments or copies I made that never worked. But too many. Apparently this isn't feminine, even with the dragonflies and moons and shiny little specs of plastic cut to resemble diamonds. barely. If this were easier for me, I would just have lots of keys. People would just know.
Then there's the pepper spray. Evidence of a short-lived experiment of night school. Smart girls, LOVE ME! Evidence of late night trips to hippster/glbt friendly bars, meeting a girl who wanted children NOW or maybe another who eventually broke my heart.
Finally the tiny rainbow bead, carefully wire-wrapped. Girly talent, girly taste. Rainbow could mean anything but a penchant for craft prowess, probably not THAT.
But it does. I see my story on my keys and carry myself like you see it too. And I flirt and call you by the name on your name tag. I collect my purchases and lastly my keys. See them, see my story. If you think you get it, well, you probably do.
Then there's the pepper spray. Evidence of a short-lived experiment of night school. Smart girls, LOVE ME! Evidence of late night trips to hippster/glbt friendly bars, meeting a girl who wanted children NOW or maybe another who eventually broke my heart.
Finally the tiny rainbow bead, carefully wire-wrapped. Girly talent, girly taste. Rainbow could mean anything but a penchant for craft prowess, probably not THAT.
But it does. I see my story on my keys and carry myself like you see it too. And I flirt and call you by the name on your name tag. I collect my purchases and lastly my keys. See them, see my story. If you think you get it, well, you probably do.