it’s a gift
he said
and it wasn’t my birthday
for another five months
I proudly told him
so he clarified
a surprise, a secret
he had thought of just for me
and if I liked it well enough
he said
he could give me more
because I was his favourite
and pleasure in exchange for pain
seemed like a deal
worth the tears
and the stains on my thighs
that my grandma quickly wiped away
so my mother wouldn’t find out
that I was a ***** little girl
and when the pink flowers
in his garden
opened their mouths when he squeezed
he laughed and said
they are just like you
and I thought I understood
but I was five
when the same hands pried me open
and he said that I was nice and pink
and I didn’t get that either