Saturday, February 20, 2010

Life Without Parole

Don't think this is finished yet but...


Life Without Parole

What I feel for you is a crime.
If my thoughts weren’t just thoughts
I’d get at least three to five.
My actions are juvenile,
But my teens long lost
I am an adult in a courtroom
Despite my objections.

Your mouth full of Hershey’s chocolate,
I shoplifted a kiss.
It only seemed right
As we strolled down St. Mark’s Place in the moonlight
Only drunks have known.

We forgot to remember condoms at the Duane Reade
But didn’t care later.
The cramped studio,
With the whispers of dawn
Drifting up from the streets,
Seemed protection enough.

It’s funny how forgetting to remember
Becomes remembering to forget
In just nine short months.

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