tricks are for kids

and i really don't have time for games,
but it doesn't mean i wanna grow up
any more than i ever did.

i'd like to be young forever,
but if growing older means that i can stop breaking my nails,
i suppose i'd be fine with that too.

purple nail polish doesn't suit adults,
but if i call it violet, can i please be excused?
i'd like to leave the table now.

four legs in the kitchen and none of them are mine,
folded neatly under me like a knitted bundle in a wicker basket.
the table top seemed a lot higher back then.

i think the measure of how old you really are
is when you can no longer cross your legs like you did in kindergarten,
waiting to hear the stories that you no longer believe in.

i think the measure of how young you ever were
is when something ends and you never really cared when you were young,
but now it makes you cry like you really are a child.

i remember drawing profiles at the dining room table,
over and over because back then quantity was better than quality,
and the quality was always good enough anyway.

there was no such thing as imperfection back then.
everything was the best it could be, just the way it was.
and then i got older.

i know that wine and wood get better with age,
but i'm starting to believe that it's not the same with people.
and i am aging still.