teenage love in a commission flat
I’m not that pretty but this guy at school he gave me a poem once.
Roses are clichéd.
Daisies, now they’re something else.
They bloom anywhere.
It was a haiku he said.
I didn’t understand it but it made me feel real happy.
Katie yanked it out of my hands.
She cacked and called him a pussy and he blushed and never wrote nothing about me again. Katie can be a real bitch. But she lives in the flat across the hall, and when the cops came and busted Dad she never said nothing about it at school neither.
So I guess I didn’t make a big deal.
Not over a poem.
But I keep it in the back of my knickers drawer.
Even if she says it’s lame.
I don’t care.
She never got no poem written about her.
Guys, they only call her when they’re watching porn.