All her life 
	she felt 
	like she was abstaining from 
	something.
the adult magazine 
	that stood
	readily available at
her local supermarket
had almost guaranteed her 
moralistic downfall.
She was young,
	too young,
	but she remembered how 
	she’d felt.
Perhaps she would have forgotten
had it not been for her 
parents shouting,
cold brother,
constant slamming doors.
Every day there seemed to 
be a ‘who could be the loudest’
contest at her
	house.
it was too disorderly to be called 
	a home,
although it lay host to a whole
	heap of problems 
		that imbedded 
	themselves in 
the purple dining room walls
and tht horrible 
green sofa that 
her grandma had 
left behind.
It seemed so out
	of place in the context
	that surrounded 
it
but still she felt 
like the sofa 
had more of a place 
in the mother’s heart 
than she ever could.
Perhaps that’s why she 
never took to it
like a new born baby
sucks all the attention
away from the older 
sibling.
It wasn’t even comfortable,
that was the worst part.