Sweet Sixteen
She has a scarlet handprint smeared across one cheek.
And a diamond plate pattern scraped into her knees.
The bitter taste of copper and shame fills her mouth,
And fingertip bruises scatter across her shaking shoulders.
Her mind, once filled with a suffocating terror,
Is now etched with a heavy fear and the memory.
Of scents. Cigarettes, chewing tobacco and sweat.
Of pain. Each thrust of hate so deep it reaches her soul.
Of sounds. Grunting and laughing and words sharp as knives.
Just a few hours in the middle of a still, summer night
And She is shattered into fragments too jagged to repair.
Old dreams, light and colorful, have suddenly vanished
And new ones simply won’t come.
One day as she adjusts her mask in the mirror--trying on a smile.
She says outloud to no one, “I don’t know her.”
This is dedicated to a girl I knew in high school.
And to all survivors.
And a diamond plate pattern scraped into her knees.
The bitter taste of copper and shame fills her mouth,
And fingertip bruises scatter across her shaking shoulders.
Her mind, once filled with a suffocating terror,
Is now etched with a heavy fear and the memory.
Of scents. Cigarettes, chewing tobacco and sweat.
Of pain. Each thrust of hate so deep it reaches her soul.
Of sounds. Grunting and laughing and words sharp as knives.
Just a few hours in the middle of a still, summer night
And She is shattered into fragments too jagged to repair.
Old dreams, light and colorful, have suddenly vanished
And new ones simply won’t come.
One day as she adjusts her mask in the mirror--trying on a smile.
She says outloud to no one, “I don’t know her.”
This is dedicated to a girl I knew in high school.
And to all survivors.
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