Morning Rituals

I always wanted my classmates
to be the first to notice me 
and greet me with their innocent smiles,
I would have wanted them to tag me
in our game called labolabo--
but mornings were not what I expected.
Every day he would wait for me like a servant.
When I rode a jeepney
he would sit beside me,
his cold fingers creeping on my back. 
One day he asked me,
“Would you like to come with me?
We’ll go biking,”
and I went with him
like any child.
We walked along the sidewalk,
his hands on my shoulders—
I felt I was protected by my loving father
until he squeezed my arm hard
and I felt a shudder in my loins
we sat together,
his hands
exploring and stroking
my hips;
I wanted to run
like a rookie—
stealing home

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4 endeavored to criticize:

Pratik Rimal said...

Uh-oh...don't like the last stanzas...creepy...and how could you go with him on a ride? That's terrible...

Damsel said...

why? is it disturbing? tell me P.
that's a true-to-life account. hehe

Pratik Rimal said...

True-to-life account...whatever...don't know. Confusions...and that's why I haven't been able to write a poem lately...haven't felt anything... :-(

Damsel said...

perhaps you miss your Mamta P... uh-oh... P's lonely, huhuhuhuhu. It's okay P...

Advance Happy birthday to Mamta P. :)