Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Just Fifteen

His hand ran up my thigh to my heart and mind.
And he grabbed at the girl wearing sweat pants and long sleeves.
She was just fifteen.
Her innocence taken from her all too young.
She was just fifteen.
Left alone in the sheets that smelled like ecstasy.
His hand was on my back pulling me to his broad chest.
I didn't want it.
She was just fifteen.
Dressed modest she cried for hope.
And a year later here she sits.
In this therapist office with a woman.
She was just fifteen.
And this woman called it how it is.
A word so disgraceful that she would cry until she was gone.
She was now sixteen.
And she was raped. 

2 comments:

  1. Wow. This is such a powerful post, beautifully written. The difference between that first and last line is just so shocking and strong!! I wish I could express myself the way you do. You have a gift! I have read this at least 5 times now.

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  2. The repetition of the words, "She was just fifteen," drives home the sadness in this piece. And then tears come as her experience is named.
    "She was now sixteen.
    And she was raped."
    A very powerful piece of writing.

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