Her meekness...

Her age was apparent in the
meekness of her cheeks,
and in the uncharted territory
where her two legs meet.
But that number and her
body was a clear contradiction.
So when he inquired
Her hip width convinced him that
number was fiction.
And like the beginning of an addiction
his curiosity got the best of him.
His mind warned stop, while he battled
with the rest of him.
She being non the wiser, to her
he was like a big brother,
And he played the part perfect,
like her long lost father.
You see, at fourteen a young
girl with no daddy clings to
what she's never known.
A man could win her trust with
sweet talk and an ice cream cone.
It didn't take much to please
her little girl needs.
But time came for someone
to return to him the deed.
His pleasure was more
than she could supply.
But like ants on a popsicle stick
he crept up her thigh
and hand over her pink lips
before she could reply.
Ripped skirt, quivered hips,
muffled cries, tight grip.
Meekness tainted
Innocence retreat
Now hips still wide,
enough for baby's head and feet.
Her bundle of love, is her
created greatness
But how does she tell her daughter
her daddy was mommies rapist?

Poetess