Playing With Boys

Before teen age, I was told to not play with boys. That boys will get into my pants and make me pregnant and my life will be ruined by a baby I’m not ready for.

In my twenties I am told, that babies just happen. One never really plans for them, countless people have said and laughed heartily while at it.

It’s fine to ruin your life I find, at a certain age but not another.



He came back for me, she said. Crying, begging on his knees, pleading…he came back severally and said he could not do without me.


She told me this with the air of someone subtly convincing another, that they are loved.


I saw through her words, to the days he stayed out late. To nights I lay awake and heard her grunt after the sound of knuckle hitting flesh. I heard him, never her, even as she convinced herself that he must love her if he has stayed all these years, never marrying a second wife. He must have loved her!




And when you died, you didn’t see but I did. How he mourned you like you would have wanted him to and how a month later he had another woman. How he had many other women and how he carried on like you were never a thing. Never that thing you tried convincing me you were to him.


How, were you alive you’d have known; he was a pig of a man who did not deserve you.
A pig who, had you known your worth, you would have left the third time he came back for you, crying, begging, pleading. Saying he could not do without you.


A Poem by Michelle (5 years)

Michelle is one kid that totally blew me away. She is only five but knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid of holding an opinion. She was quite something. I remember as she wrote her poem, she chose the word “appear” and wrote it with a single P. I stopped myself from being a grammar Nazi, wanting her to concentrate first on expressing herself. She however hesitated on her next word and after a thought, went back and added a second P.

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