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No sex. Keep it far away from me. I'm still a child.
I'm safe without sex, without what it represents,
without the years of repressed memories,
of bad touches that were good in a way,
bad touches that led me to crave bad touches,
that led me to respond only to bad touches,
that led me to the memories of when they began.
No sex, no bad memories.
and sex sometimes to relieve the pressure,
like a sealed pot boiling on the stove
moved to the back where the ebullition
is lessened, before it explodes,
before I explode, boiling bad memories,
bad touches that need to come out,
come to light, be exposed, because
that's the only way I feel better.
Bad touches are good, but don't endure
because they're dirty, and dirty sex only
happens one time, then it disappears,
I make it disappear. Bad touches
don't come out with words, bad touches,
bad memories, with dirty sex vents
so I don't explode. I am still a child.
© 2014 Nicholas Emeigh
Read by the Author
Part of the group "Record-A-Poem," and part of the Playlist "The Poetry of Nicholas Emeigh" which includes 40+ other poems.
Notes: This poem was written on Saturday, February 8, 2014. I usually write a description, but I don't think one is necessary here. If you'd like to discuss the topic, or if you too have suffered such abuse, e-mail me. We can give each other mutual support.
The unique works displayed on the pages herein are © 1997-2013 Nicholas Emeigh. Use is restricted.
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