Sneaking out with my friends
To meet a middle-aged man
With intent on stealing my virtue
Talking of red wings, things I
Knew absolutely nothing of
Other than it was vile
Friends with plans to steal away with me
Telling me I shouldn’t wait
And that I didn’t need love
I needed the experience
And what better way to learn
Than from a pedophile
Drunk at the wheel.
I remember crawling out the window
Slipping upon the ice
In springtime’s blushing pinks
Scourging my exposed skin
As they wanted me exposed
To their sin.
Fifteen years old
With innocence intact
I wanted love first
And my love my last
But not this burly drunkard
Dusty mop of blonde hair
Splattered against a
Sweaty forehead, hat askew
Mumbles under breath
But they promised it was alright
That I was going to be okay
I was safe
Within his arms and
Cold hands clutching the steering wheel.
“You need to do this.
I’ve been there before.
He could make you feel so good.
He’s done it all before.”
I couldn’t keep the pressure from
Pulsing in my head
But in my heart, I knew
What felt right
And what was
Most certainly wrong.
I turned and ran,
Followed my own footsteps
Back home
through my open window
And waited anxiously for one friend
To return.
As irony had it,
They had nowhere else to go.
Stuck on glare ice
In front of my house
Burning rubber
Screeching tires
As they went fast to nowhere
For hours
They sat, pushed, pulled, revved
Passed out from the booze
While one came back and the other
Tied the noose
With her own hair
And my stepdad in bed
One eye open
And a mirthful smirk.
Honesty served me the next day
A plate of nods of approval
For having the strength to say no-
Not this one
Not this time
Never again-
And it was then I also learned
Who I could trust-
Who was my friend
And who was out to try and make me-
More like them
and less myself.