Way Back When
I’d undo my school trousers,
she’d be wearing her short
school skirt and we’d find
some discreet place and let
our hands freely explore
one another: we barely
spoke: there was nothing
to say: our eyes screamed
as our innocence began
to melt, our fingers wet
with lust and something
we didn’t understand
but couldn’t stop: we’d
lean upon each other,
feeling guilty about
something we didn’t
know of, but we were
damned if that was
going to stop us.
Horror Sleaze Trash 