"come here"
he says, pulling her on top of his bony knees
she sits on tops of him
feeling all of his skeleton at once
"you didn't even give me a chance to say no" she says
when she looks off into the distance
thinking about what she'll say next
because no matter how you put it
it will break him
he rubs her knee aggressively
she squirms
"tell me what's wrong"
the words are burning in her throat
she wants to say them so badly
she think she might vomit them out:
It's you. I don't want to be seen with you because I'm not attracted to you and I never will be. You forced me to become the woman that you wanted...not the woman I am. You didn't wait. I guess I should take half of the blame because I engaged, but when you have me pinned down to a bed and you say that I tense up whenever you touch me, shouldn't that be a sign?
"nothing," she replies. "i am okay."
the petals of her innocent are wilted now
falling pastel pink and brown
down fast to the ground
the water has run dry
the flies are at it now
the stems are decaying
innocent was what
she promised
to always be
to not let a man
dictate where her
seeds were planted
and what season they grew in
two weeks into
fall
her seeds were
dictated
planted
and blossomed
before she was ready
YOU ARE READING
Pastry
Poetrypastry noun a sweet baked food made of dough It's amazing how something so sweet could crumble so easily For the second time, enter the mind of a girl in her late teens trying to cope with the loss of her identity. (Book 2 of the "Ash" poetry tri...
