Wednesday, 23 March 2016


At the ripe age of 15 years
was when it first happened
I had filled out,
like a well written letter, punctuated in the right place
and from the stares and open admiration visited on my body
I'm a sight for sore eyes
I had just discovered pleasure
lurking in the recess of my body
from touches purely accidental
to the ones from Ugo's able finger
I was a miracle waiting to happen
or so I thought.
That hot afternoon in November
mother's 'honey-Joe' offered me a chilled glass of orange juice
I saw the looks they exchanged
but I was too parched to care,
I mean it was after all from my mother's husband
Weeks later I would replay waking up
my skirt still on but half up my thighs
strangely I'm not with either of my tights or panties
a strange bitter-sour taste hangs in the beginning of my throat
I felt sore in between my thighs
blood stain and another I couldn't describe.
I would go on to tell mother that night
she shrugged it off as those things dream does to you
strange she wouldn't look me in the eyes
somehow I know I had been had
especially I wake up from strange sleeps at odd periods
often preceded by drinking something mum gave me or good old honey-Joe
I got my pen-knife two days ago
it's double edged and razor sharp
that snaking piece between honey-Joe's legs
is gonna be taken surgically from him
it would be my first surgery
after all mother said I would be a doctor.
Oh and I did detach it
so much blood and squealing like a pig
he's starting to stare at Chioma's budding breasts...

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