Cecilia.Dry on the frothtongue, marredtongue like crickets and blind.
Natalie. Her mother's breasts are sunken and pulled like an old elastic band. They've grown into colours and are no longer baby-powder-white, baby-powder with lead that blisters one's skin and bubbles. Now they're maniacs who sprout moths and ghastly things if you look too closely; blue and black and purple frolicking along the patch of dried milk, spattered with a gutless liver, a royal purple like the tight bodices the queen wears for her lovers and manwhores.
Cecilia. Your mother has my boot printed right above her tits and it stretches to the side of her thinned neck.
Now, you girlthing, don't you knead your playdough mouth ugly and loll your spit-tongue at me, you dangle-lipped spread.Her braids hovered right above her temples and her temples are pounding. The girl pales like her mother when he touches her shoulder and she's ginger, and leaves a bad taste.
Cecilia, look at me. I say look at me, girl, and let me see your sparkle-eyes when they char. You look just like your mother when she cowers and I think you're beautiful. You should be touched, like Natalie was and you look just like her when you quiver and your face wet
like your pussy, don't lie, I know you soak your minnie-mouse panties.She furrows and hills mock her between her brows, she looked tired, but not enough to not be scared and she tucks her knees to her widowed chin as he tugs at her braids.
Cecilia, you look beautiful, did I ever tell you? You look young, as if you were six again when I pull your hair back; it lifts your eyes and you look more like your mother - you look like a Japanese schoolgirl when I pull your hair. I should make you an outfit so your littegirl nipples don't show all the time, it's disrespectful.Her cheeks have forgotten how to blush and she never looks up because her daddy has gleamer-eyes.
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