By Elle, 5.22.2018
10 Years Later
The residue of your unwelcome touch
slits the skin which holds me together
and my secrets spill in front of me
The one about the way papa touched me
I’ve never put lotion there before, why start now?
I’m only eight years old, what do I know?
Papa didn’t mean it that way, this is domestic
Why doesn’t mama put lotion on me?
I'm only eight years old, but I can do it myself
But papa just wants to be nice, that’s okay, so don’t push him away.
“The bikini line is sacred, no one--not even I”
I’m only eight years old, don’t expect me to try
To stand up against a man who is older than I
who conceived my father, who fed me earlier
I’m only eight years old, what do I-
Do you want to hear my secret?
The one about the way papa abused me
I promise I won’t be fat when I grow up,
Though you stuff me full of trash
I’ll grow up to be a beautiful young lady
I’m only eight years old, I have time
It’s baby fat, the skin you pinch at
It’ll be gone in a few years I hope, No!
Stop screaming! I’m sorry I cried!
I’m sorry I’m picky! I’m sorry I’m a child!
I’ll eat those mushrooms just please don’t-
Here I lie, squeezed in my cousin’s crib
I'm only eight years old, but I think I’m too big. . .
Here I am, in this God Forsaken crib
Thinking of my secrets, burying them beneath my skin
How old I will be when I spill
10 years later.
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