Traces of Seventeen

I hear the opening bars of that song and I’m seventeen again. Same side of the bed, same paraphernalia of devil-may-care attitude. My taste in decoration hasn’t changed much. Only now my boyfriend is allowed to stay over any time he wants and no one asks me for ID when I buy a litre of semi-sweet white. I look in the mirror trying to see the ravages of age that give me away, but some trick of…

View On WordPress

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s