they’re too small I grew out of them
I wore my skintight baby blue shirt
with Britney written in bright diamond rhinestones
second hand from my Dad’s mate down the pub
I scraped up my knees, bleeding through my borrowed jeans
a gaping hole, missing a tooth
laying there like a coin on the pavement,
bloodied lips and nose
one shoe strewn about a foot away from me
my sister used to buy me WKD from the corner shop,
I was only 9
but I was always told I was old beyond my years
I used to look up to her,
she took me to all the cool parties,
I hung out with all the older boys,
they liked my baby blue shirt
I made forts with my friends in the woods,
stuffed our faces with one pound packets of sweets
crashed our bikes into each other
read OK! and HELLO! magazine
laughing and not understanding any of the headlines
my brother was passed out on the sofa again,
burning cheese toasties in the oven,
just like my Dad made my Mum when they were still in love,
I trip over a beer bottle as I sneak hot chocolate dust into my mouth,
there’s no food left in the house
I used to wait at the window,
for my other brother this time,
staring at the numbers ticking by on the clock,
jumping up every time a car drove past the house,
the light merged into darkness
and no one came,
I don’t know why I did this every weekend
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