they call me a nymphet
my narrow hips budding breasts
my glowing skin rosebud lips
in the sun where i rest...
older women are fat and cold
with porous skin and dyed hair
they haven't their blades like gold
salient and bare
they haven't their thighs like ivory
of thin ivory are mine
i'm british and brattish
they're just fine
they call me a nymphet
with my schoolbag hanging
from my frail shoulder
decadent and delicate
please just for a while
not a nymphet
but a hurting child