These are my Pieces

These are my pieces, they don’t quite align

Some of them his, some of them mine

“mommy I have to tell you something

Please don’t be mad.

The boy, he removed all my clothes

Yes mom, even my pants”

Memories and words my mom then said next

Got lost with the memories I somehow suppressed

The things I should have heard, up until this here day

Along with affection got long swept away

It was not at all purposeful, she did try her best

But according to stat’s the chances are less

That an event much like this wouldn’t occur again in my life

That I’d somehow attract more men that walked by

These are my pieces, they don’t quite align

Some of them his, some of them mine

Already short circuited, the first event I forgot

Until another man’s fingerprints acquired a spot

I no longer accepted the body I owned

My sexual experiences now way overgrown

Convicted, no never, I am serving the sentence

Although it’s ass backwards, I beg for repentance

Because these are my pieces, they somehow got lost

I didn’t fight back, I cried, I gave up

While thoughts flooded my mind, “this must be love”

I detached from the image as he lingered above

But like I said a while before

These are my pieces right here on the floor

And although trauma has caused my thoughts not to align

They will be put back together, it just might take time

Because these pieces

They are

My

Perfectly unperfected

God forsaken pieces.

©Kim Edwards

September 4, 2016