You Wanting Me And Me Wanting You Poem by Chris Zachariou

The Sixties was a good time to be young
but you had barricades inside your head.
Alarm bells and sirens went off
every time you tried to cross the line.

Resisting all thoughts of impropriety
you fought me off with so much bravery
and all year long you wore a cross
of sainthood around your blushing neck.

You needed to be faithful, you told me,
to the one who said he would respect you.
Funny though, you were never really happy.
Not once did I see a smile on your face.

Fires were burning your modest flesh
torturing you without mercy.
Frightened, you found comfort in your books
and solace in your daily prayers.

A slave to the sin of piety, prudence
was riding heavy on your pious shoulders
and the year went by, our time wasted—
you wanting me and me wanting you.