1. One Friday night, I did not come home. You worried about me, and you were right to. I spent hours in the bed of a stranger, curled up in sheets consumed in soft skin and wet lips. This was the first time I embraced the caress of a stranger. The air held words full of comfort, and the walls now wear the memory of pleasure. This was the night that allowed me to see that sometimes it’s alright to indulge in spontaneity. It’s alright to go home to an unfamiliar bed. It’s alright to leave your panties on the floor.
2. My first kiss occurred between the lips I call my own, and those of an older man that you used to call friend. His life was dripping in success; a good job, a beautiful daughter, and a loving wife. He was a good man, you used to say that anyway. So good he tried to tell me that what he was doing was alright, and I should not try to fight. So good that he told me if I ever spoke up, he would deny it. So good he looks at me with blazing eyes and a strong gaze every time I try to escape his sight. I can feel the heat of his presence within my limbs and it makes me wish I could crawl out of my skin. His face still appears every time someone asks me of my first time, and now I cannot help wonder how something like that can happen to your child, and you don’t even blink.
3. I almost missed my entire final year of high school because I was always telling you that I felt too sick to eat. I would make up stomach aches and pains that wouldn’t go away, with the hopes that maybe you would. The lies stuck and I got thinner and I finally felt beautiful. I imagined one day that you would start to notice and you’d take me to one doctor after another, until I finally confessed to you that I wasn’t ill, I was just a daughter searching for the approval of her Mother.
4. There is a vibrator under the life sized stuffed animal beside my bed. I bought it with last years Christmas money.
5. In the eighth grade, I used to come home with my friends and we would steal the alcohol from your cabinet to drink on our lunch break. Thirty-five minutes is all it took for six fourteen year old girls to swallow an entire bottle. We would stumble around, rushing to clean up before we had to run back to school. I never told any of them that I drank the bottles with the hopes that my Father wouldn’t.”
all ragged breaths, a fistful
of hair, gaining bruises
on our hips, but I never
had a need for aesthetics
& I want more nights
spent not knowing where
my heart is, if it is inside
of you or him & not caring
if I were to never find it again.”
one should be able
to pluck off one’s head
like a dented or worn