2006-06-21 - 10:34 a.m.
Damaged Goods
She thought that his smile was for her,
but it was only for those two lumps
sitting on her torso,
defying gravity.
She thought he wished to hold her being, loving her mind, her soul, and all she stood for.
But when his arms wraps around her chest, he loves no one
but himself and his ability
to do all this without protest
No strings attached. He smirks behind her back.
She always wondered why boys stared at her funny.
She became a woman at 10, her figure now the same as it had been
Six years ago.
The rocks, the sticks, the spit, the legs conveniently finding her off guard…
The mud took so long to wash off. She limped for days to all their joy.
She missed those purple pants, too…
Glasses, braces, pimples, periods,
What a sight for sore eyes
(or four eyes)
The metal mouth would cry for help,
her tears melting into the pus
as she hid the blood stains with her jacket.
Poor over-developed mini chick.
No one loves her.
Too damn funny looking.
But she knew she had a great
body,
So she worked on her face:
Contacts, Clearasil, waxing those “ape brows”,
Nair that made her pretty but “smelly”,
She’d win track races, math competitions, writing contests, and prestigious awards, but
She couldn’t win with these staring boys.
Finally out of school, she thinks she has a chance.
No one spits at her image, looking at her funny.
She’s told that she’s beautiful, her hair
colored, her face clearer, her body
Tighter than ever before.
She thinks their eyes adore her because of
Who she is
And now in this Jude Law look-a-like’s arms, she feels loved.
But he lies there smugly, his eyes narrowing while his pupils dilate.
He runs his arms up and down that perfect body, planning his next attack.
c)Lisa Bonanni 12/5/05
blown ashes - still scatter
