oh, honey, you're too young for a pose like that. with your hand strategically placed across your chest with your razor-sharp collarbones. that sweet, innocent smile and that look in your eye. its time to grow up, dear. but til then buy your lipstick one shade darker, wear a push-up bra and when he asks you for your ID, lean over the counter and give him a good look at what you're worth and explain to the stranger that you left your ID in your hello kitty purse. bat your eyes, pretty baby, because they dont lie. but thats not what he's focusing on anyway. your whore of a mouth looking like a bloody wound on your pale, porcelain face is what he can't get enough of. he's racked with guilt and you're full of pride because this, this is the first day of your life. you aren't anywhere near eighteen, yet you want to do what all the grown ups do. let me be the first to tell you, honey, it's no easy fight. its a descending battle that no one will win. a struggle between lovers always on the attack. there just wasnt enough love in the world to cushion your fall. this, this is what we call inevitable, baby. and it has your name written all over it. so give up the fight. it was such a nice dream, and i didn't mean to let you down, but lets face it, you can't claim what wasn't yours to begin with.