In all my nightmares
I feel
the clenching terror that cascaded
through me each time
you caressed a child
like a lover.
With bourbon laced breath, you
pressed against me
and your pirate boxers
singed against my flesh
until it bubbled under the heat.
A picture of malevolence
masked as play.
You tore my skin away
until all that remained
was porcelain, handcrafted
by lust.
When newspapers
detailing your actions
struck the table
they slammed us out of
your bourbon soaked
delusion.
A frenzy of voices
shouted
endlessly,
swarming sound waves
surrounding me.
“Her
mother
is a puppet master!”
But I know and you
know,
I have no strings.
No, instead –
I am your porcelain doll
with no mouth that moves.
I hope I enter your
nightmares
and you know how it feels
for someone’s hand
to gently scape your skin
clean off.
I’ll see you soon.
Vicky Post is an English education major who spends most of her days writing, singing, and painting. She is an advocate of jazz, musical theatre, and writing education, as a means to help students with self-expression. This past summer, she attended the Philadelphia Urban Seminar, where she got to assist in teaching and help strengthen the narratives of seventh and eighth graders.