Eight-
In a general store,
the middle of nowhere.
I stared at toys,
oblivious to the stranger too close.
A hand on my backside,
a rub and squeeze.
The cops huffed,
'are you sure it wasn't an accident?'
'Is it really that important?'
Suddenly I knew shame.
Twelve-
Last day of school,
cornered in an empty classroom
by my lifelong bully.
He tore my pink shirt,
grabbed me where Trump would have.
My father helped.
Did what he could.
Told me it wasn't my fault.
But the teacher,
a male who never liked my voice,
groaned in private,
'this will ruin that poor boys life.'
But what about me?
Sixteen-
A class full of people,
feeling pretty as a rare treat.
A boy with a knife
sitting too close,
hand inching up my thigh.
A malicious smile
with a dangerous whisper,
'spread your knees.'
I never told,
It had hardly mattered before.
But that's the last time
I wore a skirt to school.
Eighteen-
The officer taking my prints
made me cringe as he lingered.
His compliments made me shudder
but I told myself I was paranoid.
Leading me to a cell
he offered me a private room
leering as he mentioned
I wouldn't feel alone.
I almost laugh now
at his offer to pay me with juice.
But a year later at the hearing
his lude claims were loud enough
for everyone to hear.
A court room full of people
heard him brag about things
he never did.
Only one person shut him down
without even a word.
Simply a glare of digust
that I was too scared to give.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
sometimes i feel too much
sometimes i feel too little
i wish i could stay in that happy place
that lies right in the middle
when i feel too much
it's a torrent of emotion
a downpour of epic proportion
and i pray for it to end
yet when it does i don't feel enough
i'm numb, frozen, depressed.
I then pray for this to end
and i'd do anything to feel again
so i'm stuck in this happy limbo
never feeling quite right
like goldilocks in the three bear's house
i can't sleep at night
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
I'm just a waste of space
These things will never change to you
But at least there is meaning between bodies pieced together beneath sheets
You're a cannibal
And I love it more than I should
Finger tips around my neck-
Grab me by the heart until my veins escape my chest
The ache of my body
The pulsing inside me
I know what it means to dance with the devil
There are more ways than I can count to feel the flame
Waiting for a spark to ignite
(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
Ebony,
Ebony is her name.
Quite the character indeed
She moves with such elegance
Skin so soft and golden
I stand by as I watch her take a bath
underneath the beaming sun
and absorb every single ray.
Afterwards, she grabs a clean towel and
dries off her glistening bronzed skin.
Honey drips down.
10,000 bumble bees follow
as she makes her way down the ocean.
She buries her feet into the white sand
and, leaves her imprint.
Her hair stands *****
as though it had been crafted to defy all odds of gravity.
Gradually, it blooms
and I can't believe what my eyes are seeing.
When she sings, it sounds like 10,000 angels.
Voice as calming as gentle breeze.
A tranquil melody.
With every word she pours out,
echoes the beautiful sound of brilliance.
She's no ordinary one.
Every single bone and flesh
was carefully assembled and knitted
by the Messiah himself.
To her, he gifted an Enchanted soul which would
be like nothing anyone has seen.
If only everyone had the privilege to see what I just saw,
they wouldn't hate her this much.
She has been tied in chains,
stripped down and wounded.
But why would anyone despise a soul so magical?
Was it out of jealousy?
It might've also been out of pure ignorance.
But after this day,
I'll be ****** to express such ignorance.
Now I know for a fact that her level of carefreeness was built on the foundation of struggle.
I think I might've come across a real life goddess.
Ebony,
Ebony is her name.
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 8:45 PM UTC