Butterfly tea plates, three of them, so someday I might hand you toast. Not the gold swan, or the tea cup, not the stupid striped blouse with the ruffles. But, if I were another person. If I had dark lipstick and gold rings and coils coming out from beneath my mane, or popsicle stick limbs to prop atop the counter of the shop I kept. Because someday I might keep a shop. Loose blouse that makes me full of air, paisleys I thought my mom might like, see-through sweater-shirt like stained glass to that old, black bra - who's was it? I never meant to be a thief.
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