blueprints of beautiful.: 17.

17.

When I was 17

A boy with hair the color of his temper

Lured me into the bowels of his parents home

Told me I was beautiful

With a face like a China doll

And a smile so big he was sure the stars

Could see their reflections

Soon large heavy hands found their way

To foreign places

Still yet unknown to me

Fast and fleeting until they were pushed aside

Quit it

With a voice as a web of whispers

He told me I was beautiful

As if I didn’t already know

The China doll face shattered

At the grasp of ugly hands

As if even God was angry at his own creation

Suffication like a forewarned death

Upon the heavy weights of two souls

I didn’t know him.

He didn’t know me.

I cried. He laughed.

Quit it.

This time in a voice that even

My father would be afraid of

My father had no idea

The China doll he had so carefully sculpted

With his two hands was being crushed

By the weight of two sinful souls

Quit it.

My mind shouted.

Maybe you deserved it.

Background: The majority of this is fiction, but it stemmed from a past encounter last spring.

4 months ago

Life goes only as far as you take it.