Chapter 2: Volume 1

I remember the days when I hadn't protected her.
Those days when I felt as though I was her enemy:
her feelings were so foreign to me...
during molestation and rape, my mind hated her
at times something the assailant did felt good to her:

He towered over my small frame and I was very afraid.
When he told me to pull it out, my entire body froze...I 
didn't want to do it, so I began to whimper. With tears flowing
down my caramel cheeks, he whispered in my ear: "If you cry, 
if you scream, if you make any noise, I'l kill your mama." I thought
If he'll kill my mom, he'll probably kill all of us. I glanced up to the top 
of the mattress at Ricki and Shannon and decided I would do it for us...
it would save all of our lives. I didn't want to watch them die because of me...
pretended like I couldn't do it, so he pulled it out himself. 


It was huge and it looked like an over-sized mushroom.
He made me kiss it.
I remember the smell: a musty, sweaty stench that almost
immediately made me nauseous.
I gaged on the vomit, then swallowed it...I held my breath 
while kissing it, but my nose was full of that smell storing it 
into my long-term memory forever.


My nose is full of that smell even today.
Just talking about it makes me smell it.

He ordered me to lay down. 
Once I did, he began with my mouth and stuck his tongue down my throat.
I gagged again and the acid from my stomach burned my throat as I swallowed it.


He worked his way down my body, licking me...it seemed as though he was tasting me. 
It felt so disgusting. As he licked, cool air would rush over his saliva making my skin cold.

I was naked.


My innocence was lost.


I looked up at the ceiling a told myself a story to distract my aching mind.
I just wanted to be a little girl and cry, but he said I couldn't, so as the tears
began to build in my eyes, I made them go back inside of me...I didn't want to 
watch my family die and I didn't want to die.
could it not be?
He continued down my body and between my legs. When he got there, he concentrated 
on something. This is where she and I had a quarrel. I never knew why I thought there was something wrong with what he was doing to me. It had to be wrong. How could it not be? 


But, when he got between my legs, something happened. He licked something and it felt so good. I was mortified! This is bad. It's not supposed to feel good...I must be bad. 


He did it again. I clinched my body and let loose an internal scream: "Noooooo! Stop it!" I warred with her. "Don't!" I felt a thumping inside of my body right around where he was licking. I think he could tell because he began to lick it harder. Then, he deposited a wad of spit down there. It was slimy and nasty. I nearly vomited again.


I hated that feeling...I was only six! What was it anyway?


He got up and straddled me on the bed rubbing his long mushroom on every part of my body that he had licked starting with my face...that smell...my gagging...I swallowed the vomit again. He ventured down my body to my until he got between my legs...he dug his mushroom in between that space and began humping me...He moaned...he grunted...he let out long gasps. Just then I thought about it.


I remembered thinking that my mom could hear it all. We could hear the same moans and groans when they were together. Why wasn't she coming in to save me?


Then, I remembered how severely he beat her. Maybe she was afraid. He was a big man. I rationalized...she's afraid of him...I understand...besides, I'm bad because I liked it, so it's all my fault anyway.

I spent my entire life combating that thought. Everything became my fault. I became apologetic and clingy and no one seemed to like me...no one seemed to fall in love with me.

He continued to stroke between my legs and at first, his wad of spit kept me from feeling the friction, but, as he  pumped harder and faster, the spit began to dry and he spat again. This time from a distance. It slithered out of his mouth like a worm who knew he was bait and was determined to be free. His spit seemed so slimy and there was so much of it as though he was mas producing it the whole time he was pumping. 


Not too long after he spat, his eyes rolled in the back of his head and his mouth dropped open. His eyes began to flicker. At that exact moment, I felt something warm between my...it was very warm. 


His body jerked. 
He made these really weird seemingly 
uncontrollable noises.
Then, he pulled his mushroom from between my legs and sprayed some gel-looking stuff all over me. The smell was different, but I didn't like it either.


He sprayed it all over me and some of it even got on my face near my nose and every time I took a breath I could smell it. I held my breath.


When he was done, he took me in the bathroom to wash me off. He simply ran a rag under warm water...no soap...and began to wipe me. The rag didn't have enough water on it, so it didn't get the stuff off; instead, he smeared it into my skin, which, when it dried, left white streaks all over my body.


It was sticky.

He put my t-shirt back on and told me to lay back down and I did, but I could smell the stuff with each breath. 


I was so angry at myself, yet I was happy that we were still alive...that made me feel better.


Even though I was a six year old, I remembered thinking that I would need to find a way to block that feeling. It was to complicated for a child to understand or even figure out, but I knew the opportunity would present itself when I would be able to bury that feeling.

Chapter 1: Volume 6

Silken Rose

She is like satin
Rare silk
She is smooth and soft
Wet and loving
She is my baby
Beautiful
Her life is as pink as the carnation
Her love resembles the lily
And when she is happy
She cries out joy
She has been battered
But loves the feeling of her silk
Celebrates herself
And loves living
No one abused her that she does not love
She prays for them
As she awaits the one
Who will send her into rhythmic ecstasy
She waits
And I wait
For she is a part of me
And she is in good company.


I remember the first time I read this poem to anyone. It was a woman and, when I told her what it was about, she found it repulsive. I thought of a way to weave it into this conversation because I know that it is poignant to my getting over you and that bereft feeling you left me with. 


Once I allowed a man to read it, he found it difficult to understand it. He was so honest though and he took a good stab at it. I was amazed at your response. You knew right away what it meant. Perhaps it was because I had told you my story. Maybe it was because I sat there heaving it up and you swallowed ever part of it like a starving raven ravishing prey.


"It's about your womanhood" you said.


"Nooooo..." I replied (with a hint of soft correction in my voice)


"Yes it is Yolanda" you added "Your wo-man-hooood" 


"Ohhhhh!" I said (with a huge smile on my face and a little chuckle behind my smile) I showed every single tooth when I smiled at you. You just made me beam that way.


You got it.


You understood.

When I was younger, I hated the feelings I had in my body. I never wanted to have the big O! No man deserved to have that. However, as I became an adult and lived pass 30 I realized that I needed to love my self, guard my femininity and allow myself to become soft, supple and beautiful. I just didn't know how to do it.


I learned her and I felt sorry for her. 


I used to think of the vagina as something totally separate from my body...almost lie a foreign body...an appenditure. I took care of her aesthetically: I washed her, shaved her and learned her, yet I was often angry that she had any feeling. The moment I wanted a man, she acted up! She lacked self-control; therefore, I felt the need to tame her. I starved her and I used my mind to render her inept and nonfunctional. 


I think she weeped.


I felt as though I used her myself, but I didn't know what to do about her because no one had taught me how to tame the feelings produced inside of her. I loved her, yet I still thought of her as a raging beast.


When I met you, those thoughts changed. I decided to explore what I could do to release her from the bondage I had ensnared her in. I wanted to see what it felt like to allow her to feel as intensely as she wanted to and to let myself go completely. 

You may remembered. I shook. I trembled and convulsed. 


Oooooohhhhh myyyyy! I thought 


This is so good I might just die!


I think I did (in a way). I'm sure I did. My spiritual side did. I let my guard down too. I let go too much and it killed some things I needed to keep alive. However, when I read the poem and think about what I should be doing with her...simply taking care of her...loving her (not through masturbation)...telling her that she was special....she is beautiful and deserves it. This means that I have to protect her now.


I was concerned with protecting her when I was with you. That's why it took so long for me to let my guard down with you. You groomed me though. You made sure I knew you wanted more than just sex from me, yet, it seemed like such a fantastic front. Why would you want to love me? Why would you want to be with me? 


I couldn't wrap my mind around it.


I wore a ring to protect my chastity and you playfully attempted to pull it off. I should have known then, but we bantered all the time and I figured you were just being playful...you weren't. You had decided you would ravish me...take my cleanliness, dirty me up and then leave me for the woman you really wanted to be with. You took such good care of me that I never saw it coming.


I went through a whirlwind of emotions. Many ups...then downs. My biggest regret, however, is that I didn't protect her like I promised. I thought you would love her...that you would take care of her for me. You did...to some extent. 


You made her feel in ways that she had never, ever had. I was afraid. I didn't want to do it because I knew you would leave me, but you convinced me you never would. 


"Just let go....it's okay."


I did and I fell so hard for you that I didn't know how to spring back. I did...eventually, but she craved you for so long after. It seemed as though she had a mind of her own. While I thought of the times I had with you going out together, having engaging conversations and generally enjoying your company, she seemed to only think of the pleasure you gave her. Then my brain began to go back to the accolades you paid me...sweet accolades...very few and far between. You were so quiet, so when you said something, I knew I was pleasing you. 


You courted my mind, and my body putting a hook in my soul. You arrested me.

I occasionally shook it off to allow another man to come into my life, yet I didn't want any of them touching me because you had owned my body. My soul was tied to you and she cried out for your affection. Her cries, however, were muffled by your new attention...I had lost you...we had lost you.


I promised myself I would never do that to her again.


I will keep my promise.