He was a monster,

but I did not know.


Sleeping.

   I poked.

One eye.

   Prodded.

Two eyes.

   The monster woke,

And so I ran. Too late,

He ate my soul.


I was a monster,

but I did not know.

She swallowed her birth control
For she has learned the hard way
That it is her responsibility
To bear the burden
Of bearing a child
While the man **** as easily as he goes
To grab a drink with his friends
While the arms that belong to the body of a woman
Cradle a baby
That cries for milk from ******* that will be drained
And a heart that will be empty
And hardened by men
Who will *** and go again.

I bend to scoop the sand into my palm,
clutching tightly,
the tiny grains warm within my grasp.
The ocean is calm,
gently nudging my toes as though reminding me of its presence,
begging to be noticed.
It is persistent.

I look back to my fist,
prompted by the renewed emptiness inside,
capturing a glimpse of the last grains of sand
as they trickle from between my fingers.
They lay to rest at my feet;
before, behind, or beside me - I could not be sure.
I never did find out, nor did I care.
They were never mine to hold.