STUD

Funny how no one ever called me a Stud.

When I was intent to conquer as many men

as had conquered me, and make them cry.

No one called me stud.

Bitch for breaking hearts and promises,
For all the fractures the little girl in me suffered
and all the broken promised 'it won't hurts', she remembered.

Whore for mastering the dance between
silk sheets and how to make a man scream my name like a girl.
Lessons they taught: how, what and where to please them.
I can still remember the school of Hard Knocking Boots.

Tease for the no repeat performance.
Rules laid down to remind myself who controlled.
My no meant no, now. And I don't have to tremble between
this time and next time. No longer a child. He can't force me.

I've conquered the alphabet, nations and races.
Learned how easily men cross lines of what they will or will
not do or "have done to them."

And if I felt a little guilty, and maybe a little dirty,
I made myself remember what they are truly like,
dredged up the faces that smiled while I screamed.

Cruel and Heartless were names I bore as well.

My favorite name was Mistress, while my Hard Boots
were licked.


But stud was never my crown.