He sat beside her on the train,

And she folded herself smaller,

“You take up too much space,”

Someone once told her.

 

But he smiled at her,

A warm and crooked grin,

And maybe he can teach her,

Not to fold herself in.

 

She is not a thin piece of paper,

To be folded origami small,

And he never listened,

When people said he was too tall.

 

He asked her questions that,

Made her snort and laugh,

And when they got off together,

She no longer wanted to fold herself in half.

 

He bought her a doughnut,

And didn’t make her feel small,

With the want to fold herself in,

And not exist at all.

 

By the end of the day,

She was not hunched over,

And in three more years,

He’ll tell her he loves her.

 

She won’t fold herself,

And stuff it all in,

Or try to suck in her breath,

Just to be thin.

 

After a while she finally learned,

To stop folding it all inside,

And finalized realized,

That those people had lied.

 

And so she was happy,

With the boy she met on the train,

And she will never ever,

Try to fold herself in again.