Tarnished

With a soul cracked right in two,
her blood flows inside her –
but her heart feels as if it has stilled.

His fingers…
She shudders; Oh god, his fingers.

Panic has passed already,
for she has accepted the inevitable
event;
but her innocence is slowly
torn to shreds.

And she shudders and she cries
and she keeps whispering…Stop.
It's like watching him tear
the wings off a butterfly.

And her hope has faded into white
but it's still there
because she is barely above a child;
and what is a child without hope?

Yet, it darkens to something like
fear and worry and disgust and the sensation
of ants on her skin –

Nevermind, it's just his…fingers.

And she is bare after he is gone;
bruised skin glaring in the face of her despair.
Delicate thing, she was, but now
she is broken.
Her wings have been pulled off and
her tears have dried away –

all she has left is the despair that comes
when terror is not enough.

Ma, she whispers when silence comes, Ma, where
are you? He ruined me.
Mama…Please find me. I want you to
tell me it's okay again.