She was everything I aspired to be;
an hourglass figure measured only
by their calculating stares
scanning over her body.
I was envious of the attention she received;
I never realized how much she had
given up in the process.
I was ashamed of my carefulness
keeping innocence intact
as long as possible.
I wanted to be like her,
but I was unaware just how careless she was
letting tiny rubber packages
grace hotel room nightstands
unopened.
I blame myself for her reckless actions,
for spending more time
coveting the glances
rather than noticing the agony behind
regret-stricken eyes.
I blame society for
making us grow up too fast
skipping the stages between
boys having cooties and sex,
for robbing innocence
from playgrounds.
They hurled responsibility
onto petite shoulders
where life-altering choices
had to be made during recess.
I heard about her hardest decision
while sprawled on
her Disney-printed bed sheets;
she told me of her visit
behind the walls where heartbeats
are silenced.
Yet she cried of how she still hears
the screams reverberate beneath
scars on empty wombs,
how each tear of flesh
had a corresponding tear in her
broken soul.
Rewrite 2012
She was everything I aspired to be;
an hourglass figure measured only
by their calculating stares
scanning across her body.
I was envious of the attention she received;
I never realized how much she had
given up in the process.
I was ashamed of my carefulness
keeping innocence intact indefinitely.
I wanted to be like her,
but I was unaware just how careless she was
letting tiny rubber packages
grace hotel room nightstands unopened.
I blame myself for her foolish actions,
for spending more time
coveting the glances
rather than noticing the agony behind
regret-stricken eyes.
I blame society for
making us grow up too fast
skipping the stages between
cooties and sex,
for robbing innocence
from playgrounds.
They hurled responsibility
onto infantile shoulders
where life-altering choices
had to be made during recess.
I heard about her hardest decision
while sprawled on
her Disney-printed bedsheets:
she told me of her visit
behind the walls where heartbeats
are silenced.
Yet she cried of how she still hears
the screams reverberate beneath
scars on an empty womb,
how each tear of flesh
had a corresponding tear in her
broken soul.