Choice stolen,
It’s rarity increased.
Dreams broken,
So you hold tighter
To the ones that remain.
Virginity a concept
That your worth
Can be stolen away.
That you can be so much less
Because another touched you
Implies that you were less anyway.
Picking up the pieces,
Trying to heal,
Realizing that nothing
was removed,
That it is perhaps better
To put together me
My own way.
I am taking a break from coffee house writers. This is my last post there for a while. Though there are some awesome writing on there, and I have quite a few friends on there… I felt like this last poem should stand alone. Please continue to read the work there. The writers are doing some amazing work.
Today the prompt was The First (Blank)
It released yesterday but by the time I finished with the flea market, I was so tired I couldn’t think straight. So I am posting it today. The beta readers all said this was a lovely volume. It is all love poetry and my art.
Pattimouse 