I sense the touch
of boy's eyes upon
me, said Jeanette,
the touch inches
beneath my skin,
moves along my
veins, ****** at my
heart. I sit and see
the other girls remote,
untouched as I, their
voices gathered like
hens at feed, pecking
their order of who
and must; I hear the
words giggled: kiss
and tell, and touch
and feel, and who did
what to whom, echoing
around the room in
whispers spoken, hid
by hands, eyes betraying
what their voices are saying.
A girl talks of ******
climes, of ***** deeds,
with him, but who is he
for no one tells, just a
lover of girls. I wash
each night to cleanse me
from their touch of words,
their deeds half buried
in my mind's hold; I bathe
and sit and scrub, sensing
the day's grime wash clear
away, hair,arms, hands,
neck and ******* where
they say(and laugh) their
*** boys play. I hear their
words as I sit in class,
whispering, whispering,
who did what to whom
and where and were you
there? I wonder at their
lives, their way of walk
and do and deeds, the want
of love or need of keeping
something back, virginity
not saved not cared for such
as seems when they speak
and sprout it all comes out.
I bathe in water warm and
soapy, scrub my skin to
cleanse them off, the night
spread before me like a dark
gown, the stars blinking eyes,
the moon a ghostly ship on a
dreary sea. I don't think boys
will want of me. I dress as
neat and tight and show no
part that should not be be
seen, I am as yet untouched,
unfingered, unkissed, a
flower in a gloomy meadow,
a blossom in a city site, a
gem(says mother) in a heap
of ***** I sense the touch of
boy's eyes upon my skin, it
bites at me, ****** at nerves
and heart, I want to be undone,
not left alone and torn apart.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 4:49 AM UTC
I sense the touch
of boy's eyes upon
me, said Jeanette,
the touch inches
beneath my skin,
moves along my
veins, ****** at my
heart. I sit and see
the other girls remote,
untouched as I, their
voices gathered like
hens at feed, pecking
their order of who
and must; I hear the
words giggled: kiss
and tell, and touch
and feel, and who did
what to whom, echoing
around the room in
whispers spoken, hid
by hands, eyes betraying
what their voices are saying.
A girl talks of ******
climes, of ***** deeds,
with him, but who is he
for no one tells, just a
lover of girls. I wash
each night to cleanse me
from their touch of words,
their deeds half buried
in my mind's hold; I bathe
and sit and scrub, sensing
the day's grime wash clear
away, hair,arms, hands,
neck and ******* where
they say(and laugh) their
*** boys play. I hear their
words as I sit in class,
whispering, whispering,
who did what to whom
and where and were you
there? I wonder at their
lives, their way of walk
and do and deeds, the want
of love or need of keeping
something back, virginity
not saved not cared for such
as seems when they speak
and sprout it all comes out.
I bathe in water warm and
soapy, scrub my skin to
cleanse them off, the night
spread before me like a dark
gown, the stars blinking eyes,
the moon a ghostly ship on a
dreary sea. I don't think boys
will want of me. I dress as
neat and tight and show no
part that should not be be
seen, I am as yet untouched,
unfingered, unkissed, a
flower in a gloomy meadow,
a blossom in a city site, a
gem(says mother) in a heap
of ***** I sense the touch of
boy's eyes upon my skin, it
bites at me, ****** at nerves
and heart, I want to be undone,
not left alone and torn apart.
A GIRL WANTING TO BE LONG BUT AT WHAT COST.
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