I Knew She Was A Mom

I knew she was a mom because she wore clothes that had stains in strange places.
I specifically remember the small, sort of textured, white stain streaked like a chef’s sauce perfectly along her left shoulder blade, signifying the infant she likely had awaiting her at home.
Her long brown hair was in a disheveled ponytail, just covering the edge of what looked to be a dragon tail tattoo; a reminder of her spontaneity. Her basket dangled from her forearm. In it sat two boxes of spaghetti noodles, a container of wipes, and a carton of almond milk. She leafed casually through a copy of Women’s Health Magazine as she patiently awaited her turn in line.
Her face showed calm, relaxed almost- the quick trip to the market possibly the only break she’d get that day.
I listened as she talked to the cashier during her turn to checkout. I noticed how humorously she spoke of her three year old’s obsession for pasta based dinners; how it was going to be her second pasta meal in three days. She laughed as she joked on likely returning sooner than later for more noodles before she casually strolled out of the automatic doors and into the parking lot.
Her smile still showed as she got into her van parked neatly in the closest parking spot to the store entrance.
I knew she was a mom because she was. She wore it proudly (and probably unknowingly on the back of her blue t-shirt) and she wore it well.


I Asked For It

I asked for it
that lustful stare
because my skirt reached just to there
on a hot day where the boys could wear
tank tops
to ease their sweat drops
but my clothes begged their cat calls
their ridicules and sexual glares
but those that heard didn’t care
I asked for it
at that party the other night
after me and my boyfriend had a fight
I drank a few more than usual
and left myself in quite the mess
I was depressed
and unaware
completely clueless to his stare or the
moment that he slipped his hands beneath my dress
awoke the next morning, naked
my confidence so much less but
I asked for it
the quick feel to my backside
because I was cursed with curves that show
no matter the fabric of the clothes
and though that bus was far from cramped
he stood behind me
pressed up so close , his breath scratched my skin
and I felt his frustration in his pants
as we crossed the train track
I took two steps forward
he took two steps back
towards me
and the man in the seat three chairs down said nothing
just the awkward glance of pity while I rode through the city
uncomfortable but only because
I asked for it
when no meant yes to him
because I agreed to being intimate but
not the way he wanted it
I cried out for him to stop
it wasn’t right, I shouldn’t hurt
He stuffed my mouth with his shirt
ignored the tears in my eyes as our intimate
date turned into a rape
and he assured me after that “everything was great”
because after all
I asked for it
when my daughter came home in tears
after a classmate made my fears a reality
he dismantled her after she refused his company
in front of his friends
took it upon himself to expose her breast
ripped her shirt from her chest
and with a cocky grin
warned her not to embarrass him again
or he would do her worse because
she asked for it


Crying Wolf

He forced into me
My mind, my thoughts, my heart

my legs

Felt around every inch inside
Memorizing each thrust of selfish joy
and depleted of happiness
With nothing left to give

He scavenged, ripping down my walls
Discovering and destroying my center
Drawn blood a bonus, showed signs of rough play
“She can handle rough play”
He whispered, escaping deeper within me
My own voice weakened from unfortunate circles



Faster until his pleasure succumbed
Crashing on top of me
I can’t breathe
Him gasping in orgasmic glory


Beneath his weight, crushing
My breath, slowing
emptied out, a complete void left of me
And he walked away and never returned

neither did I


Have mercy on me for I have sinned
and fallen for that tight skirt girl,
High heels an inch away from reaching the heavens,
breast molded in pure perfection,
And I won’t lie,
it was pure lust that drew me in so heavily,
And I did stare,  boy did I stare
at how her hips swayed with the breeze,
A whistle slipped from out my mouth into the air and she did hear,
Her lip frowned up and eyes grew wide,
Disdain showed with a hint of fear,
But my, oh my, was she a fox,
Walking sex,
Her body like sugar; sweeter than honey,
And though I know not of her mind,
I’m sure it’s there,
But please have mercy,
for all I saw
were the voluptuous curves of that tight skirt girl.