TRAGIC Poem: Lolita, by Phineas Schanbacher

I read it in a book,
Where we took a road trip and I
Didn’t go to school,
I was young, and daisy-fresh,
And you were not.
I was 14 and you were not.

It comes back to me in waves,
One day I’ll be in class and I’ll remember.
One day I’ll be at work and then I’ll remember.
How your hands felt,
Dark and bruised like a butcher,
You were used to tearing meat apart,
And you sure didn’t spare me,

I used to think of myself like a lamb in this allegory but
Now I know I was never that pure, that special,
I was complicit in your carnage,
Snarled my teeth with you,
Play fighting gone wrong and then
I said Stop and I said stop and I said stop and
I’ll never forgive myself for what you did to me.

Author: poetryfest

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