was from a time,
when 'punk' wasn't so mainstream.
A time when the villagers would see
Us on their way to
Church; shake their heads. Wonder where our mothers were.
Oh, but she was in my heart and she was the best.
(Most of the time).
She would have me at 17, but willed me to fade away.
And spent the rest of her life failing to feel
Guilty about that.
Your smile is from a time before her.
Or maybe a different time completely.
But men, men who drive us apart in their
Fords; and break our hearts - it's hard to remember that whatever falls gets broken.
But will he be there to catch you?
Or take your own self and
shut the fortress of your body, and leave you there dry?
Men are always from our time,
Watching your smile,
Clumsy hands sliding between thighs.