find decent comfort in you being forever almost nineteen in my mind i will
make peace with the little girl slouching in the mirrors
make space for the cowboy who, seldom still, wears my skin and for my mother, who will have to bear the sight of a daughter turned to an utterly yielding son-thing
crave the rivalry from my father and mourn the cradle of his arms
i will crack my head open once my teen years expire, i think i will
yearn for a lover in my youth and for a pure peace of mind, i won't
ever get it, i don't think i will
as long as i own this body in this modern town
