I am sending out a plea
A hand to reach you
a voice to teach you
Because you are so often forgotten
Because you have gotten to good at saying
“I’m fine.” and making it sound believable
because I am one of you too.
Do not settle for groping drunken hands
with his sticky hot breath whispering in your ears
promises he has no intention to keep
or even remember tomorrow
do not listen
to the lies that he will fill you with
as he runs his hands over your ass
and presses his groin to your skirt.
They will leave you empty in the morning.
he has no intention of loving you
none of them ever will.
I can tell you that right now.
No.
Stop right there
I know what you’re thinking.
You cannot change them
you cannot save them
you cannot make them love.
AND no matter how many times you will repeat
to yourself:
it means nothing
I am young
I am having fun
It will always sting the day after
shame will rise like thick steam
from the pit of your stomach
resting on your cheeks
making you nauseous for days.
I know
I have been there.
It’s like a hangover that can last for weeks
with throbbing flash backs that make
you want to purge all of the memories from your body.
I want to hold you
All of you broken fragile girls,
because you are not held enough.
because you are not held enough.
Because you need to be held,
but would die before ever admitting it.
I want to cradle you in my arms and whisper to you,
It is ok,
it is ok to feel lost,
you are not worthless,
you are still human
you are allowed to make mistakes.
as many as you need.
But darling, be careful you are not destroying yourself.
you were not made for so much abuse
you may look in a mirror and see nothing.
But I see a pretty girl with cracks in her smile
and weak hope in her eyes.
And you may not know it
but some sweet boy is madly in love with you
with your sad eyes
and your chipped smile
he finds them endearing
he just hasn’t gotten up the courage to tell you yet.
So let this be a letter to the sweet quiet boys
watching the girls they love
get bruised
and used
raise your voice
they need you to save them
because they know that the white knight is never coming
but a gentle boy in faded blue jeans could be just as good.
Let this letter be,
a call to arms for the timid boy
a shield against the groin grinders
and a hand
to pick up the girls with shaking knees
to wipe off the mirror and show them
that bruises fade.
A letter, for those who need it.
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