I call you forward to witness thee,
The nightmare, crimson reality,
Red soaked sheets,
A story of once an innocence, now is gone,
Torn away from my flesh,
I ask you this, where is my choice in all of this,
I have had snatched what is mine, robbed, I seek justice but there is no answer.

My cries, cries fall on silent ears,
Through the years, my cries are also now silen-ced,
I have become a story to myself,
When I now tell of my tragedy, I don't cry
Nor do I give that bitter, characteristic laugh,
I look hollow and stare hollow and feel hollow.

… People think that I’m shallow.
I am fine with that,
When has it ever been my choice?
I cry and scream and no- one helps, and passers-by snigger as they go.
...’’She got what she deserved, she had asked for it, what, dressed like that!’’
‘’She should thank her stars, that someone wants her anyway!’’

After all, ‘**** is a kind of... love.’

That’s part of the irony…

I don't feel that loved.      

- Felinely, Aisha.

to kiss your neck with these here lips
just once
to place my hands upon your hips
just once

to draw your body close to mine
our legs and spirits intertwine
to take you and make love to you
just once

to wake one morning on your arms
just once
to be sedu-ced by your charms
just once

To lie and watch you get undressed
to feel your hands upon my chest
to see into your very soul
as our two halves become a whole
just once

throwing caution to wind
just once
sinning like we've never sinned
just once

A passionate intensity
that gets the best of you and me
and lets us be all we can be
just once