Ashley Simpo
Sep 27, 2016 · 1 min read

Men have picked me up

Warmed me in hot hands

Left me for dead

Placed their baggage on my neck

Belittled me

Forced me to smile

Or stay when I needed to leave

Described me

Without knowing me

Needed me

Believed in me

For a time

Chose me above others

Chose others above me

Found God in my eyes

Transcribed my fears as their own

Insulated their pride with my soul

Introduced me to mothers

Loved my scars and kissed them goodnight

Mouthed “olive juice”

Tasted my skin

Spit it out

Promised me worlds

Galaxies

Forgotten me

Replaced me

Professed love in prose or poetry

Died in my name

Watched while I passed away

Revived my flesh but not my soul

Questioned me

As if I was theirs

Muted my voice

When it became too loud

Explained me away

Kissed my feet

Placed rings on my fingers

Chains on my neck

Placed offerings at my shrine

Oil on hands

Moved mountains

Danced in the rain with me

Apologized for things they didn’t do

Denied the things they did

Used my body

As paper

For words they could not say

Made me a wife

A whore

A martyr

A liar

A goddess to worship

But only on Sunday

Wet mouth, dry words

Gave seed to my womb

Watched as I birthed him

Watched as I bled

Helped me to die

Wept at my wake.

Athena Talks

A hub of conversation to help young women mature, budding professionals become leaders and leaders become advocates for equality.

Ashley Simpo

Written by

Freelance writer living in Brooklyn, NY. www.ashleysimpo.com

Athena Talks

A hub of conversation to help young women mature, budding professionals become leaders and leaders become advocates for equality.

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