Kaylene 6h

She was twelve years old, the night of a party after dark, her first. With promiscuity thigh high, painted in red leather with a virginity shine. Her hair smelt of ignorance and bubblegum. She wrapped her cherry lips around the head of a vodka bottle, liquid dripping out the corner of her mouth.

He was 21, half a beer in hand and known by none. He glided through the crowd of underage girls like ile six in the grocery store, taking his pick of the fruit. His desire growing larger in the fold of his pants while he grazes the lower back of an 8th grader. He hands out ciders and whiskey shots like candy from a windowless van, luring children closer with the promise of something stronger.

She was four shots down when he came a little closer. He smelt of after shave and motor oil, he reminded her of her absent father. It was the first time a boy had called her beautiful, but little did she realise, this was a man. And to him, she was merely a space to be filled.

It wasn't long before he had her pressed up against the wall, tongue so far down her throat he could taste the cocopuffs she had for breakfast. This was her very first kiss. His hands gripped tight around her waist like the way he picks up his niece, the one that's only three years younger than the grace he's about to eat. She's muffling under his force, too afraid to push, feeling a sunami of dominance drown her in a city of possession.

Her mother was the only one to ever see her bare skinned thighs, but by now, with her pants around her ankles, that was no longer true. Feet frozen to the floor, knees padlocked and an inability to scream chocking at her throat. His fingers are digging for gold deep inside her fragility while he whispers sweet nothings into her ear. She finally manages to mumble "stop" as he unzips his fly, but he brushes away her pleas like hair from her neck. She is his captive, turned around with her checks pressed up against the red washed bricks, she feels a breeze blow between her thighs and she can pin point the exact area of her baby soft skin he drenched in his sweet release.

He pulled up his demin jeans, buckled his belt with a sigh of satisfaction and empowerment. He turned around and left her there. Covered in spit and cum, hunched over with her pants still down. She could feel the bruises forming along her back and blood spilling down her legs. She watches as her virginity seeped into the soil beneath her very own crime scene.

That twelve year old girl is you. That twelve year old girl is your mother. That twelve year old girl is your best friend, your girlfriend, your sister, your neighbour. That twelve year old girl was me.

It took me six years to tell my story. It took me six years to learn that I was victim of rape. Six years to learn the my body is not a communal box of pennies passed between church goers, I am not a debt to be paid. With a mouth still full of baby teeth, I could not beg to be noticed as a prop of sexual violence because I believed it was no fault but my own. I believed that I owed my grace to those who offered kind words and a drink from the bar. It took me six years to realise that my physical strength has nothing to do with my consent. It took me six years to realise that I am not a space to be filled. Six years to stop reading the word "shame" carved across my naked belly

I'm still not done with this one just yet, but would really love some feedback.

I watched Elaine
get on the bus
with her mouthy sister
and others.

I looked at her
as she came up the aisle shyly.

We looked at each other
I smiled and she smiled
then went into the window seat
with her sister.

Her sister yakked
to nearby friends.

I looked out the window
at the passing scenery
wondering if she
was looking my way.

I press my lips together
pretending I was kissing her again
as I had that Sunday.

It was a brief kiss
a sort of stolen kiss
while her mother
was out of the room.

I sensed her body
next to mine
soft and warm.

The radio on the school bus
was playing some pop song
about love.

Shall I look over at her?
I looked at the passing fields
trees and cattle.

I wanted
to kiss her again
but longer.

Her sister
laughed loudly.

I stared hard
at the far off hills.

The sky looked
cloudy and grey
rain maybe.

I looked over at her
and she smiled
and I smiled.

I looked away
and my insides
buzzed wild.

A BOY AND A GIRL ON THE SCHOOL BUS IN 1962

Benedict saw Yiska
coming towards him
as he stepped
from the school bus.

She looked jaded
hair brushed badly.

He smiled
as she came to him
passing other kids.

How  are you?
He said.

Better for seeing you
she replied
can we go
some where alone?

He nodded
and they walked
out the back
behind the science lab.

what's up?
He said.

Mother and her
moans and groans
Yiska said
ever since
I got up.

He raised his eyebrows
and why are we
here alone?
He said.

She leaned close
and kissed him.

I needed that
she said.

She kissed
him again.

He sensed
her wet lips
on his
her body closer
her small breasts
pressed against
his chest.

The bell rang
from the playground.

Best go
he said.

Guess so
she said softly.

She quickly kissed
him again
and then walked off
in a flurry of hair
and skirt
and out of sight.

He wrapped up
the memory
of the kisses and hugs
to keep him warm
that wintry night.

A BOY AND GIRL ON WINTER DAY 1962
Perri 2d

I sent you a letter
In hopes you'd get better
I put in energy and time
But you still don't want
to be mine

Who doesn't love getting personal mail, especially when extremely sick ?

Who did you love?
A fragment of a dream,
Whose name comes only in slurred syllables
And one too many shots of tequila.
He was fire and easy laughs,
With fingers that grazed trails down my arm
Which you can still see.

What did you love about him?
His eyes.
I found myself creating words
Just to describe the new colors I found in them.
And every time they met mine,
I found myself thinking:
"If this is what burning feels like,  then I wouldn't mind an eternity in flames."

Why did you love him?
I loved him because the summer in his skin
Made the winter in my tired bones thaw.
Under him,
The barren garden within my chest bloomed
And the frost on my eyelashes melted,
Allowing my eyes to open and see a world bursting with color
When all I used to know was darkness.

When did you love him?
In the final rains of spring and the early beginnings of summer.
When the weather was cool and dry,
And the breezes flirted with our hair.
The sun turned his hair copper
And his skin to gold.
I was just a girl with a flower in her hair,
Enchanted by his silver laugh,
Wishing on a dandelion
That we would meet again.

Where did it end?
The same place where it began.
I lost him to a girl with lapis eyes and silk for hair,
A bitter feeling.
How could I cry over the loss of something
I never even had to begin with?
I was his to have
And he wasn't mine to touch.

(g.h.) // 12:17AM - old poems

I would rather die with the taste of you on my tongue, than live without ever experiencing your lips.

(g.h.) // 12:28AM - old poems

I tried to love a boy with winter in his bones and frostbite on his lips, but I still couldn't wash away the taste of your summer.

(g.h.) // 1:50AM

Your eyes met mine and I swear my heart still hasn't recovered.

(g.h.) // I keep writing about you - 2:03AM

You told me you liked the way my eyes sparkled when I entered the room. I didn't have the heart to tell you it was always for you.

(g.h.) // You always thought it was for the boy with the blue eyes - 2:01AM

As I lay dying
A boy sits in chair with phone
Paying me no mind

A haiku about a boy not paying attention to the surrounding world.
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