I have been raised my entire life
with the knowledge of my body.
Before it even came to bloom
they let me know what consequences
it would have for me.
But what child in herself
can understand the passions
that others hold inside?

I learned the ways
to keep my body safe
from how it inevitably
influences others
in my surroundings

I learned that
     through no fault of my own
the more I grew
the more I learned
the more I filled out my clothes
the more men would want to stop me in the street
bundle me up in their arms
and shove me in their trunk
and take me to god knows where
and do god knows what
because my mother never told me
what they would do
only that they would
if I ever gave them the chance.

And then, after years of having my mother
check my panties
in the wash
for signs of fertility
I wake up on my 11th birthday
and finally know
that I can have a child of my own.
And while I’m still in training bras
and I like to watch cartoons
and eat hot pockets on Saturday afternoons
those hypothetical moments
my mother
tells me about
could ruin not just my life
but the life of a child
that would be made
of half hate
and half love.

And it seems that after this
those shadows in the night
are ever more aware of the damage they can do
to a little something something quite like me.
I can see it, in their eyes
and I feel it, all over my skin
their glaring eyes
from the backs of restaurants
and as I age they only multiply.

As I walk down the street
aged thirteen
all I do is look down
because, it seems, innocence projects
from my infant-blue eyes
and combined with my new
blossomed body
all those shadows want
is to destroy
my innocence
and make my blue eyes
dark
and
gray.

Eventually all those rules
my mother taught me
became instinctual.
I would not go into an elevator
with only one man I did not know.
If I heard someone
on the street
walking behind me
I would stop
to make sure
he wasn’t a man..
I never spoke one-on-one
with certain teachers
for I feared the glint in their eyes
that maybe I misinterpreted
but all I knew
was I had been taught
that that look was danger
to this body.

But no matter what I did
no matter how many elevators I skipped
or teachers I might have known
or streets I crossed during traffic
or clothes I did not wear
some things could not be helped
and eventually
my body
just as my mother told me
made me a victim.

For those random strangers
did not hurt me
but instead someone
who took care of me
for a short
short
period of time
thought I was
beautiful.
Thought I was
pretty
and
cute
and the second day
in his house
all he could do was touch me.

I will admit
he stopped
he stopped
he stopped when I told him to.
When during my first drunken hook up
he lay on top of me
more than three times my age
and he did
what my mother would never tell me
they wanted to do.
But he stopped
he stopped
he stopped when I bit his tongue
But the damage was done.
I was broken
into tiny pieces
of my sexual self.
And he loved
he loved
he loved how he terrified me
for those few weeks I had to stay
in
that
house
and he told me
he told me
he told me “no problem”
but I knew
I knew
I knew it was.

For now
No matter how you look at it
I am damaged goods
When I hear the tongue
of that specific accent
tears well up in my eyes
     For I, am damaged goods
When I see the outline of his body
in the shadows of a bedroom
my eyes gray
     For I, am damaged goods
And when I see the glint in the eyes
of a man his age
all I can do is close my eyes and hope he dies
     For I, am damaged goods
And since I can’t feel pain or joy
I open up my own skin
just to make sure I’m still alive
     For I, am damaged goods

And for years
I must live
with open wounds in my breasts
and I cannot understand
how to prevent it from happening again
for I did what my mother told me to
but it doesn’t matter
because now
I am, damaged goods.

But then
as the scar tissue in my breasts forms
I can see the day
better than ever.
I can see
it’s not my body’s fault
I can see
those men are the ones at fault
I can see
what’s done is done
and now that it is a part of me
I must live
I must live
I must live and learn that my damage
only increases my stamina.
I now know that I don’t have to remove my breasts
before I leave the house
to avoid being hurt.
I now know that while some men lurk in the shadows
there are others who will beat those shadows for me
or even if I feel the need
I can stop them by myself
for I am not damaged goods
and I can walk down the street in this body that God gave me
and know that
not only do I look fucking good
but I can fend for my fucking self
and if someone wants to take advantage of me
they’ll have to get through
that’s right
me
for I
am not
damaged
goods.