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Ode to Cindy

Cindy was 15
when she
decided
to run away
to Texas.

Auburn hair,
fresh-faced,
freckled complexion.

Vibrant and alive.
A raspy, sexy voice.
A trusting, sweet,
kind smile.

Cindy was a
beautiful
youthful girl,
inside and out.

We'd smoke,
drink and
dream together,
while sitting
on
concrete steps.

Never lovers.
Just teens.
commiserating,
through blood-shot eyes.
While airplanes
passed above.

Texas had
plans
for Cindy.
Big plans.

It gave her a pimp
and fucked her
til it hurt.
And fucked her
some more.
And it beat her,
over and over again.
Leaving her
youthful face (the money)
free from bruising
free from scars.

That is,
until one day.

One day, about 2 years
after Cindy ran off
to Texas, there was
a knock at my door.
It was Cindy.
Not the Cindy I knew.

This Cindy had been
through a battle.
A battle for her life.
Beaten and broken.
A fragmented shell
of the girl
who wanted
to be a model.

The left side of
Cindy's
face, disfigured.
Beaten and paralyzed.
Her eye, hidden behind
swollen, plum-purple
and yellow pus.

Cindy didn't
deserve this fate.
No one deserves
her fate

Texas had big
plans for Cindy.

Awful, horrible plans.

Plans, that most
could never fathom.
And no amount
of living
could ever erase
her pain.
No matter how many
years may pass.

Cindy will never
forget the pain
of her naive youth.

Neither will I.

poem by Tim Labbe
Added by Poetry Lover
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