all were there once
windows painted green
doors in wooden brown
a little scratchy now
partly covered with
smeared grime
her face of a virgin
something flashing in
her head, I see it all
in her eyes. she thinks
vulgarity can be good
sometimes, that minx
not sure if she's nude
the smudge on the page
is too thick, like those rules
you have to follow in order
to survive in society
"sometimes I think
this society eats its young"
my gosh! her thought has
become mine. infectious
she could be a warrior
I see determination
lurk behind the curves
of her lips. perhaps
she's planning a heroic
takeover when someone
is not looking, yet
almost too quick
that look suggests
something else, dark
and ominous, empowering
my senses completely
and I fight to break
free. a ripping sound
from distance helps me
break the contact. with
her torn fingers crumpled
in my hand, I turn away
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