Hija de la Luna

Soy un pedacito del Universo bendito

I’m Still Angry

In my dreams I am victorious
I am not just a kid
My innocence abounding
Still silly and giddy
Unaware of my womanly body
I am not meeting your pretty girlfriend
The next day; glaring at my bruised wrists
Seething and terrified at the sight of you
Lumps of rage forming in my throat
You are not luring me outside
‘cause you need “to talk”
You are not forcing my body
Against the fence and reveling in my struggle
You are not telling me
Not to worry about having your baby
You are not stronger than me
With alcohol on your breath
You are not pushing your lips on mine
You are not holding my hands down hard
You are not telling me you’ve never liked American girls
Quite the way you like me
In my dreams I am victorious
I am luring you out to the alleyway
Giving you that come hitherlook with my eyes
I am standing provocative fingering my pocket knife
I am letting you take control while I take a slice

I am strong and fierce and oh so grown
I am aware of my surroundings despite this foreign soil
I am speaking your language succinctly
I am telling you not to worry; I don’t want your baby
You are shocked at the sight of your blood
You are humiliated in your own terror
You are wise enough to start to run
You are the same as me now; untrusting
I am not still so angry a decade later
I am not wandering in alleyways and parking lots
Looking for men that look like you as I’m fingering
my knife; seeking redemption in the form of revenge
I will always say I’m a pacifist except
In the case that I should see you again
I’ll give you that come hitherlook with my eyes
Lure you into an alley for a night you won’t soon forget
Come here and let me show you
Just how much I’ve grown
Just how much I’ve grown
In my dreams I am victorious
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Categories: Poetry

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