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Golden Girl Jun 2019
I remember that day like it was yesterday.
What happened, you claim, was barely horseplay.
Will you ever comprehend,
That what you did, I didn’t “misunderstand”?

Perhaps you’d like to blame it on your upbringing,
Because your dad taught you to control a woman who doesn’t have the “right” thinking.
Mexican patriarchy is ******, but it is you who chose to comply with it.
So don’t claim you aren’t responsible for the sins you commit.

Today I speak,
For I refuse to be weak.
Today I’ll unfold the truth I never wanted to accept,
When I was just a little under 15 and felt completely wrecked.

I stand today to expose you **** as I’ve been,
A monster in full shape and form, guilty of ****** while you grin.
You’ve kept your eyes shut to my dreadful sensations,
But today you will listen to my crude allegations.

We were in your house in Mexico where you locked me in the basement.
You claimed you wanted privacy, but only offered me enslavement.
Maybe it really was my bad luck,
When I believed you when said you loved me, but didn’t realize you only wanted to ****.

A monster, you pinned me against the wall,
I hit my head and cried, beginning to feel like your personal doll.
Touching my head where I discovered that I bled,
I reached for your hand, but you only grabbed mine to throw me onto bed.

When I was five, mother told me monsters don’t exist,
But today I am a witness to the contrary, as I know angels and devils coexist.
You are a monster for what you did to me,
For you pretended not to hear my plea.

A monster, you tied me onto your bed,
And ripped my clothes until I was left with nothing but a thread.
I begged you to stop and pushed you away,
But you slapped me and pressing your body against mine, told me you were here to stay.

A monster, your tongue against my breast,
And I completely undressed,
I watched your face transform,
Like a caterpillar taking its new form.

You, a monster, a demon, and a coward,
Faced a broken soul who had not yet flowered.
You took your hands and forced my flower to bloom,
Though it did not unfold with pleasure, but with fear of ending in a tomb.

And like a painter facing an empty canvas,
You traced me from head to toe as I lay nearly dead on the mattress.
You carved your name onto my body and robbed me of my innocence.
A monster, you obliterated my purity, leaving bruises as evidence.

A monster, you watered my flowers with the filthiest juice,
Not with God’s purest waters, but your own waters of abuse.
I weeped and screamed and in that moment begged for a God to exist,
I even prayed, but found no angels to untie my wrists.

If you really loved me, then you would look past your lust,
But you never did and chose to break me with each and every ******.
Rocking back and forth I was controlled by you, a monstrous puppeteer,
Your *** danced down my legs as I watched you cold and with fear.

A monster, you carefully tamed me to satisfy your *** drive,
Never did I imagine I would go to Hell and come back alive.
Today I stand a witness of your repulsive proclivity,
Penetrated by a monster who awaited for the trophee he believed was my virginity.

It wasn’t just a simple “quickie”,
The way you threw me around and used me.
I may have stood still and allowed you to profanate me,  
But I always threw up once you finished touching me.

People say our dreams are reflections of our memories fused with fantasies,
But there is no magic in the nightmares I regard as tragedies.
I’ve spent four years feeling entitled to nothing but pain,
And stay awake fearing my memories will haunt me, crashing into me like a train.

I wash my body once, twice, and thrice to flush away the picture of your fingers,
Scrubbing and scrubbing to ensure I numb my skin from your smell that lingers.
Your colossal hands a million times larger than the girl they groped,
Remind her of the million times she was choked.

I only wish you could understand what it feels like to be someone’s puppet,
A doll you can pull, stretch, bend over backwards and play like a trumpet.
It’s difficult to accept I’ll always feel possessed,
That the monster who injected me with his poison jerks off to the thought of being caressed.

You are the reason I’ve sought the sharpest blade,
To slash my skin and mark your cannonade.
But I can’t slice you out of my body,
As slicing my skin with glass won’t provide me with an antibody.

A monster, you conquered my body with a single purpose,
You kept me in the darkness to guarantee your coitus.
I’m sorry my ******* wasn’t as **** as your *******,
I blowed as fast as I could to prevent a flatline on my Electrocardiography.

I’m sorry I had to fake an ******,
But I had to escape you once you threw me into a chasm.
Navigating in the maze where I was constantly abused,
Was difficult having no compass to pretend I was being seduced.

I spent years looking for an exit out of your maze,
Taking too long to realize this wasn’t only a phase.
Some blame me for being too oblivious,
For wearing a blindfold and perceiving you as chivalrous.

And perhaps you blame me for being too naive,
Because I wished for you to change on New Year’s Eve.
I sought a fairytale, forgetting Cinderella did not meet her prince,
But a wolf who impaled her with his claws and abandoned her since.

I was your slave for two long years,
And you, a monster, showed me each and every one of my fears.
But I have lived in spite of my trauma,
And today I stand to scold you for this drama.

I no longer fear the monster inside my head,
For I understand many others will dwell ahead.
But my monster will no longer haunt me in my sleep,
For now I sleep knowing I have my body to keep.

I am strong, proud and bold,
And I have found my place in this world.
No longer will I let you win,
For it is you who reeks of sin.

Does it make me sick to empathize with your situation?
To feel for your pain and share your deeply held frustration?
Is it you who is wicked for being a pervert?
Or me for wanting you to hurt?

How can I wish you the greatest agony,
When I would never want anyone, not even my monster to experience my tragedy?
I am being torn in different directions,
But I’m no longer tied down to successful erections.

Monster, I thank you for your rotten kisses,
For the hundred bruises and tight stitches.
I now know my body is a shrine,
And that I am my own lifeline.

No longer will I feel soiled by your hands.
For I have built new dams.  
I now look at my own reflection,  
And see a figure composed of fascinating lines shielding me from your infection.

I am on my way to finding my peace,
But need to put my thoughts together to find my release.
It may be forgiveness, prevention or punishment,
But no longer will I undermine my own torment.

It may sound funny when I say I wish I was a superhero,
So I would know when a girl is in danger of touch and close to Ground Zero.
I’ve lived my years carrying the guilt of watching women fall one by one,
Of never being able to prevent another unwanted son.

I now understand there is only so much I can do,
For I am an ordinary person with a big heart turned blue.
I only wish my words will inspire, the victims of this fire,
To embrace their burns and wear them as an iron attire.

My growth and strength came as a result of patience,
It took years and tears to show me a way out of complacence.
But in an effort to give you a lift,
I have found myself adrift.

I have tried to be a saviour,
Forgetting to save myself before and bring myself to shore.
Today is the day I become my own light,
And fight to stay bright in the night.

Monster, you may now live in paradise,
Walking around as the devil in disguise.
But I believe in divine retribution,
And live in peace knowing you will get your fatal conclusion.

You are a monster, and I was your prey,
But today, I am no longer in decay.
With these words I purge myself of your touch,
For I’ve released my demons back into Hell and no longer seek a crutch.
judy smith May 2016
“Tiffany are so proud to now be not just in Rome but on this actual street, Via Condotti,” said Florence Rollet, group vice president of Tiffany Europe, last week.

The shop is housed in a 16th Century, arch-fronted building a gemstone’s throw from the nearby holy trinity of Italian high fashion; Gucci, Fendi and Prada. The interior is light and cool, a calm contrast to the bustling street outside. Silvery grey walls, white marble floors and subtle Japanese touches such as a painted mirrored screen recessed in the store’s high ceilinged fashion room provide the decor. Stately ariel photographs of the Empire State and Chrysler buildings by Jeffrey Milstein are on the walls, as essential to New York’s skyline as St Peter’s dome and the Coliseum are to Rome.

The fit between New York’s 179-year-old luxury jewellers and Rome is neat like a signature 6 pronged, platinum ‘Tiffany’ setting holding a brilliant-cut diamond. “Our diamonds pop from the other side of the room like nobody else’s,” said Melvyn Kirtley, Tiffany & Co.’s chief gemologist, here to support the launch. “This year we’re also celebrating 130 years of the Tiffany setting. It was invented by Charles Tiffany in 1886,” he explains. “Tiffany cleverly floated a diamond with this setting above the finger. This lets in more light which helps diamonds to dazzle. Before his innovation, all diamonds were set very low on the finger,” he said, frowning at the thought.

The linking figure between New York and Rome is Audrey Hepburn of course. In Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Roman Holiday Ms. Hepburn’s wide-eyed, elfin face bridges these two cities at a unique time of glamour and post-war optimism, the 1950s. This was also a period of economic confidence for both cities. So it was a coup for Tiffany & Co. to have model, artist and New York resident, Emma Ferrer, Hepburn’s beautiful 21-year-old grand-daughter to help with their launch celebrations. Rome-based British acting star Katy Saunders was also on hand to dazzle. Celebrations climaxed with an al fresco dinner and dancing to New York’s spin master, DJ Cassidy at Villa Aurelia, a 17th Century pile. The house and gardens overlook the ancient city from the Janiculum Hill, one of Rome’s famed seven hills.

If any of Tiffany’s new Roman customers needed reminding of the company’s glamorous heritage, on the ground floor of the shop is an area dedicated to archive pieces by Tiffany’s most feted jewellery designer, Jean Schlumberger. Displaying such unique and beautiful objects as Diana Vreeland’s Trophee de Vaillance pin which the legendary Vogue fashion editor commissioned from ‘Johnny’ Schlumgerger in the 1940s. Beside it is Liz Taylor’s Fleur de Mer brooch given to her by husband, Richard Burton. Tiffany bought it back from the Taylor estate at the auction of her jewellery in 2011. Ms. Taylor herself is forever connected to Rome her starring role in the film Cleopatra. It was made at Rome’s Cinecitta studios in 1963 and co-starred her future husband as Marc Anthony.

At the back of the shop a double-height square room features the Tiffany ’T’ collection as well as watches and younger, trend-setting pieces by Francesca Amfitheatrof, Tiffany’s current, and first woman, design director. “It took us a long time to find the right location,” said Ms. Rollet. “And now I’m thrilled. This place is perfect for us!”Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-canberra
Si mon grand Roy n'eust veincu meinte armee,
Son nom n'iroit, comme il fait, dans les cieux:
Les ennemis l'ont fait victorieux,
Et des veincuz il prend sa renommee.


Si de plusieurs je te voy bien-aimee,
C'est mon trophee, et n'en suis envieux :
D'un tel honneur je deviens glorieux,
Ayant choisy chose tant estimee.


Ma jalousie est ma gloire de voir
Mesmes Amour soumis à ton pouvoir.
Mais s'il advient que de luy je me vange,


Vous honorant d'un service constant,
Jamais mon Roy par trois fois combatant
N'eut tant d'honneur, que j'auray de louange.

— The End —