Black, as the midnight sky
Her clothing,
And, the makeup,
Around her eyes
velvet pumps
And, designed, fishnet stockings
Cover her legs
A miniskirt hugs her hips,
While, the filmy top she wears,
Plunges, then knots,
Between her breasts
Jewelry to match,
And, red fingernails
To adorn her fingertips
Pink, the color
Of her lips
She checks herself
In the bathroom mirror
Right before
He arrives
At their door
Her friend's apartment
On the second floor
He enters
Moments later
And seats himself
Next to her
On the couch
A comfortable distance between
The two
She blows her smoke
Into the room
He casually engages her
In conversation, without a pause
Talks of politics, the environment, and God
So intelligent, and, well spoken
She thinks to herself
This, is very interesting
She thinks, as well
All of his words
Begin falling on deaf ears
As she struggles
To comprehend his verse
The sound of his voice
Is all that she hears
With every word,
Another twinge of pleasure
Erupts within her
By great measure
She stands to her feet
With shaking legs
Tries, to be discreet
Into the powder room she goes
For a few minutes
And, nobody knows
A few, deep, calming, breaths
Into her lungs
Then, she returns:
End of round one
He leaves, a short while later
She's incredibly sorry
To see him go
But, it is comforting
For her to know
That he spent all night
Talking to her
And, the girl
He came to see
Sat across the room
And, did not speak
Wondering when
She'll see him again
Wondering when
They'll begin...

Written when I was about 15. It's a good thing I memorized most of my poems from back then. I used to read over them quite a bit. Because, when I was hospitalized for the first time, my mom threw all of my poetry away. I remember a few others from back then. Maybe, I'll post those too for you all to see. The situation here... I was at my friend's apt. I used to hang out with alot of older people when I was that age. My friends were all in their early twenties back then. There was this guy in a local band around here that I really liked, he happened to show-up over there that night. And, this poem, is what I wrote when I went home. You can really see the teenage boy-crazy girl mind in this one.