The silence cut into the ground. The pain ripped into her body. That night he stole everything everything. Something she could never get back. Something she would never even remember having. Innocence lost before letters were learned. Her spirit left. A fishbowl life, the gift of living hell.
Men stared. Men telling her that she should be a porn star. The one who told her that she should take off her clothes in the back seat. He wiggled it into her hand. He told her things no man should say but it was everything she thought was right to say. She didn’t know. She took the penny. She spared the dime. Quarters chimed far away. Dollars she didn’t know, she didn’t know.
Hate the desire for man for father for husband for brother. They blame. She lays down. Obedient lamb. Slaughtered and shaped. Body frame formed in a battered haze. The mind fractured in defiled words in silent rage in an impaled pain. A mistake. The mistake.
I scrape my lens clean so I can see me clearly. I scrape at the filth that blinds me that binds me. I scrape at the filth so I can see you clearly. I scrape and it hurts. I scrape and its work. I scrape I smile as I bleed. I look at the man. I look for his beauty. I scrape. Beauty, God let me see his beauty. I fall and fail. Its work just to look you to look me in the eye but I scrape, I scrape.
I scrape it away.