Troubled Teenagers

We’ll make a deal. A transaction

That will bond us, I swear.

Give me your hand,

Your pulse, your touch,

I’ll give you what I

Have left. Maybe it’s not much.

But it’s all I have.

We can sit up, late,

And we’ll talk about your troubles.

We can be each other’s

Release. We’ll exhale

And express why we’ll

Never get what we should.

Ill teach you how to cry,

To make your sorrows count.

And afterwards we can

Tell fables and jokes,

So I learn how to lie.

Youre not everything that

I need, and I’m not yours.

But at the moment

We can help each other,

Just by lying in bed,

Tangling our limbs.

Nothing more will ever be

Asked of us.

We’re filthy teenagers,

With no knowledge of pain.

Disrespectful and vile,

No one will ever suspect

That there’s real red blood

Flowing though our veins.