when i was eight

my mother and i
left my ****** father
after our bar play date
and here i am now

reliving their mistakes.
i wonder if they felt the same way?

i had a boy
who i had dreamt about,
who melted away my fears
and showed me how to be devout,
but i left him,
my willing victim,
for a man who breathed my name
and believed me to be the same age
as his brother,

his juvenile brother;
and he thought it was quite alright
to sneak a peek upside
my pleated skirt

with his camcorder
and sell what he had found to his friends.
boy, that's tough.
what i once thought was love
became a funhouse maze of
broken trust and confusion
mixed in with potent smoke

and i at seventeen became the underage joke
that he sat and laughed at
while i grasped at the ledge,
tried to pull myself up,
and the boy i had loved
heard about my new crowd
and left off to college without a single sound.

he wouldn't have me
and neither would the man
who choked me out with his blood stained hand.
now i lie in his bed and cry
for i have lost everything i had
all because a blue eyed boy
promised me everything he had

and i believed him.