4:14 am

He said:

This is not your home.  It is mine.

You have a bad heart.

If you were a good person you would allow me to do whatever I wanted in my house.

Bring over drunk women at 2 am.

Allow them to break glasses and commit adultery in the bathroom.

Disrupt your studies.

Oh, that’s right you’re trying to better yourself for us.

But why?  You’re useless.

You can clean their mess in the morning.

Let me talk to my friends kindly and treat them with respect.

As I talk to you like you’re a piece of shit.

__________________________________________

She said:

I once believed your heart was pure.

There was a moment in time when you adored me.

You would whisper words of love that would nurture my soul.

Gentle and kind.

Loving and true.

I looked up to you.

My heart is good.

I am enough.

I just wish I was enough for you.

Curly Miri © 2014

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Eleven

I was only eleven.  His welcoming arms and tender embrace felt so safe.  Going to the beach was our favourite pastime.  We would walk hand in hand along the shore in search of pretty shells and slimy seaweed.  I looked into his eyes in search of kindness and in return his beaming smile made me feel like I was loved.  I guess that’s why I felt special when he would visit me in my bedroom each night.

At first, we would talk for hours then as the evenings grew colder he would lay with me beneath my covers and touch me.   I was taken aback the first time he kissed me, his lips stale with the stench of cigarettes accompanied with the sweet words, “It’s okay, I love you.  I just want to make you feel good.”  I did not hesitate as he made me feel complete.   He wanted more so he started to caress my inner thigh and in between my legs he would lay and the pleasure I felt made me feel like I belonged to him.  He made me promise not to tell anyone, especially our family.  Telling me that if I let anyone know about us that our bond would be broken and no other could ever love me the way he did.  I believed every honeyed word that left his lips.

I yearned for his embrace each night.  No one told me that what he was doing was wrong.  I did not feel that being loved could ever be wrong, even if it was by my own uncle.  The years passed and our relationship continued.  He would bring girlfriends around to family brunch on Sunday.  In my jealousy I would threaten to inform my family, but he said it was to ensure they would never think anything was going on between us.  I believed every saccharine word from his mouth.

I left home to be with him when he moved to another town.  I was overjoyed when I became pregnant and thought he would share in my joy.  No.  This moment of happiness was removed in an instant.  He slapped me across my face and beat me until I could no longer bleed, leaving my baby without a heartbeat.   Didn’t he love me?  Didn’t he want me?  Did I not give myself to this man every night for six years?

Tonight, I shall return to the deep blue of where we once walked hand in hand.  No longer will I collect scattered shells or delight in his shameless paradigm of affection. I will remember the sweetness of being a child, innocent and untainted by a love that has torn the core of my being.

I will be free.

Curly Miri © 2014

*This story is inspired by the many women who have experienced this devastating ordeal within their own family.  Women take care of our girls, protect their innocence.

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Love & Laughter,
Curly Miri

You Stole My Innocence

His lips touched mine; bitter, wet and stale.  The lingering scent of his body reminiscent of hovering flies gazing upon sweet lies.  He caressed my inner thigh and looked into my eyes unafraid and unmoved by my trembling fear.  I lay there motionless and naive, thinking of how much I wanted to hide in an abyss of comfort and love.

“This will make you feel good” he promised.  The first time a man I trusted offered me a promise, so broken and untrue.  “You will be okay” he pledged.  My eyes burned with sorrow, my heart etched with pain as his undesirable intrusion entered my innocence.

This must mean that every man that glances at me has preying eyes, and a broken promise to offer my damaged soul.  Is it true that my body is not a temple but rather a used shack for your pleasure?  Every time I see your smile it haunts me, your repulsive touch makes me want to run and hide from your meadow of treachery.  The tone of your disloyal voice makes me hate everything I am.

I trust no one because of you.  I will not ever know what it is to make love.  Because you raped me.

Curly Miri © 2013

*A piece inspired by a discussion with a female relative.  My heart goes out to every woman who has ever experienced such a frightening ordeal.  My hope is that you find comfort, love and peace.

Love & Laughter,
Curly Miri