17, 23; 4�10� and 5�6�

17, 23; 4’10” and 5’6” was a hot muggy June day. It was just another day at the mall to meet her boyfriend. Her parents disapproved because he was not black, and yet that was not going to stop her.

Mrs. I know what I’m doing, dressed in a short black skirt with slits on the side. Bright yellow off the shoulders halter which must be worn with a strapless push up bra. Curls in her hair, earrings, painted toe nails and finger nails, matching flip flops and Ex'cla·ma`tion body spray because he said it made her smell like a baby and he loved that. ONETwoThree body spray because he says it made me smell like a baby and he loved that.

 

Her body moved to the beat of African drums. With just the right amount of baby fat in all the right places, turned the heads of many men.

Mrs. Saving it for marriage, Mrs. Church every Sunday, principals honors, drama club, the preppy 17 year old teenager.

That ride made her stomach fall into the bottom of the floor. Like a Samurai Sword gliding into her heart at the speed of sound. No time for reason, it was ignored.

 

Mrs. Virginity, Mrs. So Naïve he’s 23. Kisses were the line for her. But the monster in his pants kept biting at her. He breathing increases and all control is lost.

 

Hands pushed back she can’t breathe, she can’t move.

5’6” on her 4’10” frame

She can’t move.

His rough hands move under her skirt

The f*****g skirt she put on to look nice

For you

Fingers entering her. The only place of

Sanity left.

No permission given, he steals it from her.

His monster rips into her womanly beings

Bloody screams run from her mouth.

Pounding into her childhood innocence

All of 5’6” on that small 4’10”

Lifeless body

Each thrust tearing open a new

Wound that would never be closed

Again

The scar that he left on her left lower cheek, visible

For the world to see and for her to explain years later.

Her soul moves out her body

Watching from above.

　

Hearing Hannibal Lector’s voice on TV, she’s focused on that

F*****g Incredible Hulk Tattoo on his back shoulder

That same f*****g tattoo he said

Nothing about when asked earlier.

All anger of the world is forced inside her

As his seed is transferred through her mouth

She throws up as her soul

Enters her body again.

Mrs. “Virginity”, Mrs. Naïve was to blame. Caught in an abusive relationship for a year with no vital signs left.

5’6” on 4’10” dug himself inside her that whole f*****g year. Each thrust tearing out a piece of her. Taking it with him.

Each f*****g time leaving her bruised and

Broken

Leaving her ripped to

Pieces

Shaken and alone

Her womanhood bellows loudly

Every

Single

Night…..

Angry at the

World

Angry

At men

Leaving her womb so

Empty and shallow.

Miscarriage after

Miscarriage

She can’t hold on to a seed.

Supposedly the creator of childbirth

Of new life, of mankind

Is walking around with dead

Life in a shallow grave.

Which can never be filled.

Left feeling unbearing but

Bleeds God’s mercy every

Single month.

Left feeling like putrid meat

Alone in the middle of the empty road

Waiting for the prey to

Finish whatever remains are

Left.

He left her burning in limbo unable to get out.

17, 23; 4’10” and 5’6” destroyed my soul on that hot muggy June 7 day. Wearing my Ex'cla·ma`tion

A scent I will never forget.

©Nubian Goddess