She was young. Young enough to
Believe in magic, in fairy tales, in the
Love at first sight in Disney. But she
Was also young enough to believe him
When he whispered in her ear, his
Vile words echoing through her brain while
His lips, his tainted lips, brushed against her
Soft innocent skin, she believed him when
He told her it was biting, biting,
As his kisses trailed her neck.
“It’s biting,” he whispered while she
Choked down tears, confused at his tongue,
Wet and cold and slimy,
Making its way across her cheek and lower,
Lower, lower. But it’s okay, because it’s
Just biting.
She was young enough to be impressionable,
To see her kin acting so strange, to
Hear his words in her mind, to think that
Maybe this is love.
Love at first sight was tarnished by this faint
Conception of love, of showing one’s
Utmost compassion.
Almost as if she’s a household pet,
Lovingly being stroked on the back
Like a lesser value. Property.
But this was just the beginning,
The common backstory, overlooked,
Undermined, driving her forward, haunting
Her in the back of her mind every time she
Dared to kiss, dare to love.
She was driven into his arms when she was
Sixteen. Old enough to know what a kiss
Is. Young enough to still believe in love
And saving, because she thought someone
Would swoop in and save her, give
Her hope, give her a better life. So
She fell for him, the sweeping romance, the
Stolen hoodies, trace smells of cigarette smoke
And whispering “I love you” in between secret rendevous,
So maybe when he invited her over, assuring her naive and
Unassuming mind that they would be alone, and maybe when
He began to touch her, feel her, kiss her in all the wrong places,
After she turned her head, pushing him away,
Maybe that’s why she gave up and let him.
Because she was a fighter, but she was also a survivor.