Something Pure

She laughed, something pure. It had been a long time. Usually through a filter, pushed as hard as she could muster, just to fit in, to feel apart, to claim normality. Usually tinged with a tone of sorrow, flavored with a sense of loss. So heavy handed, trying to throw up the visage of a woman, so strong, she's made of stone. But if you listen closely, dig in deeply, she mourns the loss of a little girl. A girl lost, just barely a teen. But you won't see her face on any carton. No APB for a youth, an innocence, lost. No the machine ate her alive, and it's the machine that told her to hush, "it's all okay" as they ripped her trust and wonder, hope and faith, so harshly away.

But that was all left outside her bedroom door today. With me, in this little four-walled bubble, she laughed untamed, and fully released she lay. I'm one of the lucky ones. Many predators have fed on her flesh, and these walls have seen them all, but not like this. These walls have always re-enforced hers, but today they see them crumble.

That girl who used to open her heart for love, didn't know the meaning of opening her legs for love, she's letting her head peek out. I see her, and reach out, crouch down, "you're safe with me."

She runs, crashes into my arms, and clings oh so tight.

My laughter, the boy so badly bruised, runs out to meet her.

 

Luke loves lamp.