Creative piece first attempt: teenage dream

She wore latex and platinum hair like a modern day Marilyn Monroe, oozing sex appeal and availability before the camera, unfurling into introversion away from its gaze. In those moments I only ever wanted to crawl inside her and wrap her shy and fragile whimsy around my shoulders; hold her in my hands like a tiny bird.

School days saw her with pulled back hair and knee-high white socks. Always dark blue eyes contemplating from beneath a blonde fringe, eyes that had seen too much, too young. There is a photo I found from when she is four or five, with cousins happily smiling to the camera. But her wide eyes, they gaze upwards for approval: a little bird looking for the consent to fly.

She said she liked Marilyn Manson because he’s shy. She’s a clone for Barbie but she’d rather be Ken.