Snogs on
park benches,
a bit of
heavy-petting too,
my nipples
turning blue,
bottles of cider,
packets of fags,
" 'ere mate, lend
us a drag".

Leaving the house,
"bye Mum, bye Dad",
walking round
the corner,
hitching my
skirt up.

Memories of my
teenage years
coated in regret
and shame,
laughs blending
with the tears,
but there's still
a nostalgic
part of me
that relishes
the spirit I had,
it makes
me glad
that I survived
it all,
that I took
the risks,
ignored the walls.

(C) Ruth Starmer