Lesbian Poetry

Monsters

Seven,
An age; where I was once happy and carefree.
Secure in my surroundings. Radiantly shining.
Like a brand new, shiny penny

Then the monsters came

No longer ugly nor disfigured; found hiding under beds.
Monsters are now masters of disguise.
Con artists.
Appearing on the surface to be a trusted friend, a confidante.
When They've gained your trust-they then attack.

Sneaking up from behind, thrusting, stabbing me over and over again.
Becoming a new toy for He and his friends to play with.
Finally tossed aside when I lose my luster.

It is not just my body left feeling abused, but my very being.
Always watching my back, jerking away from outstretched arms.

A soul left smudged, with another's greasy-grimy fingerprints.

Tarnished