Prowl

Ostentatious bitches
Prowl,
We dress up for this.

Designed to impress,
We become unsure along the way as to
Whether we matched the speed of the bus or it matched us.

We laugh about boys
And it makes us less afraid,
This is what we do best.

Stepping out like one person steps
In and out and in and out, Blurred.
We have lots of favourite places

And we do love each other so much it’s sad.
This is our song,
We have quite a few of those too.

The crinkles in our made up faces
Hide behind the darkening August evening,
Drenched in sweat and melancholy.

We don’t realise that inside,
The lights illuminate us anyway.
This is what we do best.

My hair smells of smoke and
My clothes smell of smoke.
I tell my mother I spent the night in some beer garden.

Nineteen and cold as ice
We prowl,
This is what we do best.

(It’s sad because it won’t always be this way)