i like my clothes,

but am i more of a woman

with them off

who is "i," anyway?

the one through the mirror,

the lilac tinted glasses,

or their eyes in the hall

is my skin too light,

or my hair too tame

i don't sunburn, but

i burn my hair once a week

are they looking at me

or through me

her laughter makes me angry

what has she done

to be so happy

am i too far gone?

is my body really mine, or my mother's

for i wear her skin,

and smile as my own

why am i the only one

to take pictures of me

if they are so jealous,

do my own eyes lie to me

why do i see what they can't

everything happens too quickly

but for them it is too slow

will i ever be a woman,

with my clothes on, makeup off

my heart is too big

for my body, i am

only fifteen

i bleed once a month,

in more ways than one.

(Part of a short romance I‘m writing.)

“You know that smoking kills people, right?”

I was on my monthly gas station cigarette run when the cashier spoke to me. It would have been a normal occurrence if it wasn’t the first time I had heard her voice. Six months, and nothing. No “hello,” no “thank you,” no “how was your day,” nothing. Until today, and I spoke even less in return.

“I do.” I looked directly at her while I passed her the wad of cash I had pulled from my pocket just seconds prior. A few moments of silence passed as she rang me up. “You’re the youngest person I’ve seen buying cigarettes here.”

“I’m 17.”

“I’m 18.”

“And you work at a 7-11? Harsh.”

“Save your oxygen for kinder words, smoker. Do you even have a job?”

‘Okay, she can take a joke,’ I thought. ‘That’s a start.’

“Err.. What’s your name?” I paused to run my hand through my hair- it was getting in my face.

She grinned. “Clementine.”

“Like the orange?”

The grin immediately fell from her face. Oops.

“Yeah, like the orange.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, it’s a pretty name, I jus–,” I began, before she cut me off.

–“It’s cool.”

“Hey,” I started, trying to redeem myself. “My name’s Israel. Like the country.”

I smiled, and so did she.