Their little girl
Trigger Warning: This poem contains themes of implied sexual abuse and trauma.
My body was shifting,
And friends were changing too.
It was supposed to be fine — but still,
I felt like losing a part of me.
After all, I was still just a little girl.
Confusion wasn’t just skin-deep -
My mind felt strange too,
But I had none to fear.
For my guardians stood close
And the little girl was safe.
They were my protectors,
The ones who played,
Laughed, danced, and rejoiced with me.
They loved me so,
For I was their own little girl.
Then — what broke?
I didn’t understand.
Did I do something wrong?
Had I become unworthy?
Was I not their little girl anymore?
Hands slid under my shirt,
I felt the heat of their skin.
I didn’t know what was happening.
But a coldness settled in,
Even though I was still just a little girl.
My heart raced, unsure what to do.
They showed me parts of my body,
Unknown and untouched before.
Was I not their little girl-
Just like before?
Their lips pressed to mine,
It felt different —
Even though they had kissed me before.
The night stretched long,
First twisted kiss of the little girl?
Could I have stopped this?
Even though I was so scared.
All it would’ve taken was a simple “No.”
But how could I have known?
For I was still just a little girl.
Time has passed,
Wounds have healed,
And forgiveness was found.
But the ache lingers —
That every little girl feels.
