Jun 8, 2013
maybe
Your lips tremble
and your heart thumps
and you remember
what your mama said about boys
in the rain with dark hair that
plastered to their forehead
and curled around their nape.
That had fingers that matched perfectly
with your groomed nails
and soft palms.
Smiles with crooked teeth
and frowns between their eyes.
She told you they were not what they seemed.
That they would
destroy you
hunt you
and scatter your heart
with no regrets
and no mercy,
but you,
sometimes,
look at him
and think to yourself,
maybe, maybe, maybe,
your mama
was wrong.
