Wednesday, January 22, 2014

He said...

He said my beauty was all in my hair. Long flowing locks, he'd leave me if I lost.
I shaved it all off and found a girlfriend. Fuck you.
He said my bare head brought out my eyes, the sexy fullness of my lips.

He said girls don't play guitar.
I taught myself on the guitar he gave me, and though he didn't remember saying it, and though it was a joke... These are the things that cut a woman down...

He said I couldn't play because I was a girl. Couldn't be Han Solo or Luke. I could be an Ewok though... Ugly little thing. Cute little thing covered in fur that can't even talk.

He said " Girls don't play baseball." I caught the ball that got him out on first and then tagged his stealing teammate in a double play all by my little female self.

He said that he loved me and not the best friend that I adored... In that mistake I lost her. Watched her walk away with his devious hand in hers.

He said he wanted to date me because I had big boobs. He said he'd never date me because my butt was too big. He said I was so tight but I couldn't jack off a squirrel. He said I just laid there like I was dead.
I was 16.
I was scared.
He said he dreamt that I had died... He dreamt of me.
But I didn't have the self worth to take that for what it was...

He said his truck was more important that my heart or my orgasm. He said my brother's girlfriend was more worthy of his time. He said he'd call. He said the only reason any man would speak to me was because they wanted to fuck me. He said I was hot covered in blood. He said I was fucking every man I said hello to. Even the greasiest, slimiest, short, old, balding, beer bellied, salesmen. He said I was fat. He said I had a mustache. He said I was dirty. He said he "Had me" when I was still a virgin and didn't even know his name.

He called me a crack whore, though the title belonged to him, told me I was crazy. How crazy that I almost believed his lies when he called me a liar.

He said my no really meant yes.
He said I wanted him...

He said to cry was girlish. To show feelings is to be weak... To be a "pussy" is to be weak.
He said my brothers could do it better, by virtue of the penis between their legs.
He said..
He said...

I said, I hate that my vagina makes me worthless.

He said he loved my face...
My poise and goodwill, my blue hair.

He said I'd be the first lady President, play in the major leagues.

He called me sweetheart in his Lakota tongue. He said I was beautiful, special, I was quite the catch wasn't I? He said I am the smartest person he knows, gifted with words. He said I was the coolest human he'd met. He said I was brave, admirable.

He said my beauty was so much more that the pile of flesh before him when I sat sickest in my ugliness. He said my life was a miracle and he was amazed by my strength. Sang with the voice of an angel when I sang my song... an angel, with a demon standing beside me.
He said I'd make an amazing girlfriend... And though he barely knew me it made my heart sing.

He says he loves me. He looks at me with eyes full of wonder sometimes. He calls me the sweetest name I've ever heard: Mama.

He said my words, my thoughts, my opinions had value. He said he appreciated me. He called me a fierce mama bear. He said I am enough. I am loveable, calm, mysterious and enchanting.
He said my words reminded him to cry... And HIS words made me cry.

And though I am thankful for all the he's who have loved this she.

I say, one of these days my self worth will not be defined by what he said.

Kalee Featherwise Prue

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