Shoes

I was too small to remember my father and his love for me, or the day he died
 but I remember you crying holding my hand while we stood before his casket and your black faux patent leather shoes with the three inched heels.

I remember you working nights at the hospital, often too tried to care for me.
I remember liking to see you in your white dress, white stocking and white nursing shoes.
The ones you let me polished everyday and I remember they always came back with blood stains.

I remember when we wore only socks on Saturday afternoon polishing the wooden floors to our apartment while we danced to the music playing on the radio and laughing.
Our shoes long forgotten in a corner near the front door.

I remember you wore a blue sundress with green and yellow flowers with green shoes that had two inch cork heels. That was the day you brought Ralph home to meet me. You looked so happy holding his hand with a wide blissful smile.  Then you told me you just got married.

I remember telling you that Ralph watches me, that he spies on me all the time.
That he gives me strange hungry looks at night before I go to bed
I remember you smacking me, telling me I lied. I remember the sting across my face and in my heart and your calf high Sergio Rossi brown leather booths

I remember Ralph came into my room in the middle of the night.
I remember his heavy weight on me, his filthy hand over my mouth and the other down my pants. I remember his hot stale breath against my face as he whispered in my ear, ‘your mother said I could’
I remember him cutting me open with his dick while he pushed himself inside. I fought him screaming for your help seeing shoes at my door.

Blood, semen, and shit poured from me, I was soiled and ruined, by the time you came to my room carrying a bucket of soapy water it was over.
 I remember you wore a lovely new dress and the look in your eyes.
I never saw that look before; it foretold all and conveyed everything.
 You were glad. Glad it wasn’t you; glad it had happen to me. My own mother was I was raped by her husband.
 Glad!

 
“Welcome to womanhood,” You spat bitterly. “Now you can get your own damn shoes.”
You said shutting the door leaving me to clean myself up.  
I remember I was only fourteen when you sold me for a new dress and a pair of mustard colored Gucci signature peep toe pumps.

You selfless Bitch!