Venus de Milo


So. I was at a party.

Y'know, it seems like it always

     starts that way.

"I was at a party."

I was at a party.


Whether I had been drinking or not

Whether I was too "provacative" or not

I shouldn't have to tell you that


It doen't matter what I was




It wasn't my fault. And there should be no qualifiers for this.



I was talking to a monster.

No. Let's be real.

I was talking to a man.

I was talking to him because he too had a sketchbook under his arm and we talked about shading and wanting to tour Paris


Later on when he asked if I wanted to get out of there

I said no thanks

I was young

So very young


He argued and pleaded

And got so very angry.

He walked away from me.


Later on he returned with an apology and a charming smile

He looked so charming

And so we talked.


We talked about the Louvre

and the beauty of the Venus de Milo

And we ended up outside, just talking.

And when he touched my thigh I said no.

When he touched me I said no.


And Mr. Charming Smile is a thief.

He took what wasn't his to take.

And I was so glad that before I came to college my mom had put me on the pill.


And so next year when I went to Paris it seemed tainted

And I drew the Venus de MIlo and I was sad.

And then I was mad.

And then I got strong.

And now that damn picture hangs on my wall like a trophy.


A sad and broken trophy

for a girl who is no longer sad and broken.


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