Broken seals

Her soul swelled beneath her skin and left her several times a day.

To find a new body? 

Perhaps. 

Wouldn't you?

All those stale old places!

Windows fogged from the inside. Cracked air tight seals. They will never wash clean.

 A clear can't be found; looking in or out.

The curve of her turning cheek sinks,

her lips black and blue,

to no avail,

to no avail.

Instead she looks backwards !

"Give properly to the needy" they had said,

raising favored children who never fought back and did right...even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

Sacrificial, they called it?

Indeed!

I remember with her:

"Good girl" They praised us while they tied our legs and showed us on Sunday. 

We all dressed in white at 16 and the College boys came, fresh from seminary, they lusted after us!

 Giving sermons about the beauty of a girl who had never been kissed,

they picked us off one by one. 

Some of the pastors took the white dressed girls for their own,

 and some of them married us off to newcomers to keep them coming.

And they told us to keep them coming.

To never say no.

To give when it hurt.

To be a good girl. 

When they gave us away, unblemished, on the alter

the neighbors praised!

They untied our legs and bound our lips.

As weeks went by, we motioned that it didn't feel quite right,

but they reminded us of binding scripture and all that we had promised.

"Oh that's the way they are!" they laughed when we cried..."Aren't they something?"

 Now the wives hold babies and wear a do-right-stare, 

quietly cracked as their souls leave their bodies

to find new skin, 

every-so-often, 

like mine does.

They wonder why we're cold, why we don't "just relax" like the girls in the magazines do

But they already know the answer for sinners like us,

so they give us blue pills in measured milligram to keep us just...nimble...enough.

So, when it hurts we store our sacrifices.  We comply and wait 'til its all over, 

with windows fogged from the inside.