Spike.

When the guard locks your door,
Do you sit and reflect on the past,
Moments in time, spent together,
Carefree days of teenage girls, no worries,
Except how to French kiss, without
Losing our gum.
Do you see us on our nightly parade around town,
Desperate to catch the eye of boy racers,
Two blinding, bright horrors,
Orange foundation, under pastel pink cheeks,
With glitter blue eyes and pouting lips,
Scarlet smeared teeth still too big for our mouths.
And remember how proud we were of our burgeoning bodies,
My young breasts still much fuller than yours,
You, standing tall in that new, padded, Tammy girl bra.
Both of us wearing our skirts way too short,
The waistband rolled over, three times,
But your long legs looked good,
In red, studded pixie boots, too tight,
My size, and never returned.
I wonder now, if you thought of them, that night
As your feet swam in his blood,
And you watched him, slowly die.