Ghosts

When you look at me you don't see the tens of thousands of dicks I sucked and fucked right? Or can you?
Would it make it sting worse if my eyes told you that it brought me joy to motivate the endorphins from the base of their balls and out of the tip of their engorged shafts. I did it on purpose!
Would you love me any less? Or would you walk around frightened that your friends know, or your coworkers or your mom? Do you think she can tell. Would you do away with me if I couldn't protect your reputation? If one day some how some way it came up in conversation or someone recognized me that associated with you? Do you think about my past while we're fucking? Does it make you sick? Or interfere with your ability to cum? Do you hate me that I told you upfront because now you wish you didn't know. Even though you weren't there you can't stop imagining can you? You look down and see the scars on my thighs and it makes your skin crawl do know what my past has done to me. You don't want to see it do you? I'm sorry that I didn't come hymen still intact. Untainted by the ways of the world.
You didn't deserve this oh no whoa is you. Clearly the universe is punishing you for ending up with me. Sorry that you got the short end of the stick. Choosing... Ran through. Too many bodies to keep count lil ole me. I'm sorry that I never had anyone to guide me an protect me until it was too late and it didn't matter anymore. I'm sorry that you have to feel remorse for me because I chose not to wallow in self pity and cry everytime I have to explain it to you just to coax your feelings about something that you didn't even have to experience. Am I not broken enough for you? Does the fact that I took the power away from my past make it seem like I relish in my mistakes? That I condone an glorify sin? Why is it that in your eyes me venting about things that still impact me today make me less of a lady? It doesn't matter how far removed I am from that life. How much I adjust the behavior or carry myself with the upmost modesty and dignity, change who I associate with or where I live or what I wear or how I talk. You will always see me a prostitute won't you? I will never truly be good enough will I? My perfume will always reek of spit and cum won't it? You will always love with a lingering hyper vigilance that people are laughing at you behind your back because of me. Oh how my Ghosts embarrass my love. How could you beautiful princess be such a dirty slut right. If that be your truth. Then your insecurities will always make you weak in my eyes and you could never truly have my respect. These eerie entities and follow me around shadows of my former self have empowered me providing opportunity for wisdom. Instilling hope because I survived and overcome. Serving as medicine for the ones that will come after me. I want them to know. All of them. I will never be sorry secretly hoping that the cat gets let out of the bag that I persevered. evolved. Resurrected. I should shout it from the roof tops and echo it in cathedrals. After all Jesus was closest to the prostitutes wasn't he? The same money mary made from selling her body she used to purchase the most expensive cologne just to clean his feet with to prove a point didn't she. The tears of my grief will be someones soap one day and they'll be grateful. Proud even. Because baby I'm proud of myself. Thank you for preventing me from settling for less than a congratulations. I've made it to the other side unashamed. I forgave myself long ago so why are you mad? I can't wait to sit down and talk to my future mother about my testimony so she can have a constant reminder that gods love is still real and ever present. My phantoms are guardian angel love.