Like the first rains in March cleans the rooftops off its dirt; she took my first dirt-my innocence.
Like all first loves, she opened the creaky door to the world, for me to take a tiny peek.
I did take a peek. But I wanted more than just that afterwards.
I wanted more of what I was served sparingly.
My appetite grew with the moments.
Even one girl couldn’t satisfy my hunger.
I became a mouth, always looking for something to swallow.
I was sexually abused by my mom at five.
She put my tool to work on a warm Wednesday night.
I lost my life to the one who gave me life.