Posters from teenage magazines,    Closed the door , you locked it with a key    The pictures would keep you company at night    Handsome strangers to hold on tight    You put some music and it filled the room    Gently like a snowfall.    We were always interrupted by your mother    She was knocking at the door, offering cookies,    Candy, ice cream from the store.    I thought you were spoiled, you screamed    "Piss off you fuckin' whore"    And then you whispered    "Let's steal some wine, mom won't notice anything"    And while the music melted down    We heard her steps, she was staggering.    We were bored, but you know,    You're not supposed to play at that age    The only thing you talked about was guys    And getting laid    You had big tits and every boy in the school wanted to fuck you    You told me stories about what these boys could do    "they rip off your clothes, all they wanna do is screw"    Cans of hairspray piled up like skyscrapers    I remember the smell of dark    Fat food that your mother fried in the cigarette smoke    And in a hesitating cloud of despair.