Sleeping Beauty

Every fairytale starts with once upon a time,
But this princess tale starts with once upon a man.
It’s not one of those poetic lies told to gain sympathy,
It’s simply the truth, the untold story of Beauty.

As he lies there 6ft under
He asks me is it to late to say sorry
for always being horny?
They say beauty is fleeting
But this beauty was sleeping
until I felt his hand on me creeping.

They say a dead man feels no pain,
Shall I join you in the grave then?
Is that what it will take?
I told myself, Beauty sleep, you’ll be safe in your dreams,
But Beauty awoke and she choked on her screams.

I can’t forget how he grabbed some lotion
Like it was a kind of magic potion.
It didn’t make the entry easier,
It just made the ordeal just that much sleazier.

I know Life is not a piece of cake,
Or an ice cream sundae
So what made it okay for him to steal my cherry?
To fill his bowl full of my innocence
Steal my first just to quench his thirst.

As I lay there and watched the fireworks
It’s hardly surprising that I didn’t feel any.
He was cunning certainly but no linguist
It’s hardly surprising that he barely spoke to me after.
Save with his body in the middle of nights,
No matter how hard I’d try to fight.

I vowed to make him pay.
He was determined to have a lay
So he plied me with candy and sweets
for romps between the sheets
to let him cum,
I couldn’t call that an income
But was it not the beginnings of prostitution?

I suppose this 8year old got her retribution,
Her innocence had no restitution but his death was a fitting disposition.
Now years beyond the foetal position she vows to protect her kids from this poison,
in the death of a monster she finally found closure.

Esnala Banda

Esnala Banda is a Zambian poet, writer, blogger and afro-creative passionate about women and sharing their stories. She also has experience in marketing and photography and is currently a freelance writer for Nkwazi Magazine, African Feminism, and Zambia Travel Magazine.