My mouth is met with
blood stained currencies,
a certain amount of wealth
meant to pay for my innocence.
These moments of bliss
now has sore blisters,
I dare not speak about it
and neither do I reveal
the face of the rapist,
for he was my therapist
one with a friendly smile
but a confused hug anytime
I am in his warm embrace.
I try daily to strike a match
stick Just to illuminate my
glowing dark room
but since I am mother’s little
dark ebony princess
I will still wear my broken
tiara, embrace my twisted fate
And walk shoulders high
aided by these thorn thighs.


On nights like this
I sit still underneath
the hospitable umbrella
of trees, gazing up above at
the sky, watching how the
moon flirts with my eyes. The
stars shining brighter than
diamonds on an engagement
ring and the dark blue sky of
sweetness pricking
the sweaty pores of my
skin, with a joy unknown to
many. On nights like this, I get
the leverage to play host
to nature, having passionate
pronouns of perfection to best
my one true love.
On nights like this, I do not
care of the springs flowing
backwards or the mountains
clapping against each other
Or the owl hooting a loss
symphony because on nights
like this I find peace, love and
succor in things discarded by many.
© Nuel