who wants the teenage girl
sitting on her rustled bedsheets. 
stained tshirt, stained tear tracks. 
smiling, cooing and ooing at the people on the tv. 
blushing when he kisses the girl she wants to be. 
or when she sits alone in the cinema, grinning. 
toothy smiles, outrageous laughs
too loud even for the rest. 
seeing the best film in the world. 
then another best film in the world. 
coy eyes, as she stares at the boys in the seat beside. 
who wants the teenage girls? 
the ones that think no one is like them, 
but have all the best parts of each other. 
when i look to the teenage girl behind me, and to the one in front. 
i know who’d want her, 
me.