The last time I saw my period, my feelings were minding thier bussiness and my breast swayed without a flick of pain.
The sole mother solo and alone, looking at her child, the product of her submissiveness, closed in her innocence she reminiscences her last encounter of bonding in between the sheets,
I wish I told you before our feelings became familiar friends that my sexuality bagged a problem,
That I couldn’t be the man deep into romantic interactions because my masculinity was kidnapped in the chattering footsteps of that “assault”.
The unexpected visitor visited my loins early;
I remember that day like it’s a scroll of importance holding a message of something sweet but then that day holds memories that barks around with huge golping sobs;