I took those pictures because you missed me.
I sent them for I wanted you close to me.
In love and trust, all these you see are yours:
my lips, my breasts, my legs... The clothes on the floor,

I took them off so you can clothe me.
I opened myself so you can fill me.
And when you asked me to play a little,
I became dirty so you can value me.

In the sacredness of consummation,
in the process of commuting our passions,
I made myself vulnerable, trusting
that in you I can find security.

Am I a prize to be hung out in public,
a bounty to be added to your list?

My body was meant for your eyes but you
showed it to your brother, who showed his friends too.
My arms and breasts were yours to embrace;
you took my hugs and made them a disgrace.

My bosom was for you to rest your head,
yet you told them how I used it in bed.
I invited you into my private space;
you came in and made people spit on my face.

My classmates scoffed at me. They want to touch
me. Am I a sex doll for loving you too much?
When the pastor saw me, he cursed and laughed.
My best friend could not bear my sight anymore. She left.

How do I love now when my love has become pain?
Will I ever find love again?

I went home and locked myself in my room.
It is the only place where I am not a prostitute.
I cried and my Dad cried. He understood.
My Mum held me close. She was hurt deeply too.

Tell me, am I a whore? Am I a bitch now,
that I must walk around with my head bowed?
It was in love that I came to you with nothing on.
How can you turn my trust into a weapon

and use it to destroy me? Even in pain
I find myself reaching out to you again
and again. For you are the only one
my heart and body have learned to love.