Pervert

She is there, fifteen, in the opposite
Window, brushing her hair, She knows
That you're watching. She knows that
Your wife isn't home, and that you,
Without hope, harbor fantasies. Look
At her pose, pursing lips, painting
Fingernails, showing that body,
The newly fine breasts, the welcoming
Hips. All the world says, “ Don't”,
And you turn from the window.
She wants you to want her, but that's
All she wants. She has seen that you
Do, and that's made her happy,
While you, on the other hand,
Wish you were dead. She will
Never be yours. You're too old.
She's too young. After all, she is
Only fifteen.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 46 times
Written on 2020-03-04 at 04:49

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