Generations listened, holding back tears,
as if the weight of history whispered
in the cadence of silence.
She pretended to sleep,
watching his prayers fracture the air,
each syllable a plea for forgiveness,
each word a lie she had already memorized.
He broke her innocence-
fumbling hands, snapping buttons,
sweat and tears mingling into something unholy.
"I will never leave you, my angel," he murmured,
as fingers pressed deeper into her,
a trespass she could not resist nor refuse.
Revulsion swallowed her whole,
his touch a poison, his presence a stain,
his words a scripture written in filth.
She will tell no one,
her secrets folding inwards like a flower
too afraid to bloom.
No fight, no flight, only silence,
an ache where her voice should be.
She escaped by becoming light,
a wisp of air, translucent and untouchable,
impure as a pearl rolled in dirt and time.
When he forced her open,
her mouth like a chirping chick
devouring his ****, a sin she could not cleanse,
she knew- h could not buy her,
not with fear, not with authority,
not with the brown ****** he dragged
like the ghost of his shame.
He was nothing-
a sad old man with a criminal record,
a shadow of power that dissolved
when touched by her refusal.
And so, she remained:
light, air, silence,
the dirt pressed against her skin
washed away with the years.