For the Little Girl I Found Raped and Left for Dead in my Apartment Building’s Foyer:

Little girl,

I admit I froze when I found you

7 am on a Friday morning

you felt as though you

were a product of yet

another one of my

sleep disorder-fueled

false-awakening dreams

you ever have those?

you’re about your usual day

until you realize

something is… off

disturbed

something that can’t be real

you see, I’m so often splitting lanes

between reality and derealization

that I’ve learnt to bite my

knuckles to know the difference

and this particular morning

my knuckles nearly bled

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because there you were at my feet like a shadow

and there were my red-and-white polka-dot knuckles

and there were your size 0 jeans pulled down around one ankle and your shoes tossed aside next to the cigarette someone took one puff out of and left there

a cigarette with the same length as the rest of your life

and I do hope you’re still alive

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Little girl,

I’m your perfect anti-hero

here to (somewhat) save you

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Little girl,

I want you to know that just this past Monday I took a mental health day from work

and I was posting to fucking subreddits about how badly I wanted to kill myself

and I’ve been stuck in this funk from when I was a little girl

and I found myself in the grass with

a man I thought I knew and I wished

the grass could grow so fast that I could hide and never be found

and in many ways I feel I still haven’t been found

but now I’ve found you

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Little girl,

I want you to know I asked for your permission before I touched you

but I touched you

to try to wake you

to try to find a pulse

It was your breathing that led me to you

as if you were a deep slumber I was still chasing

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Little girl,

I know in many ways I am you

but in many ways I am not

Because now I’m talking to an officer and his blue eyes are sympathetic

and his blue uniform is reflecting off my light skin like pride while

paramedics pull you into a dark ambulance where you

and your dark skin are bound to get lost

and I remember the years I’ve spent working for the system

watching black girl after black girl become just another manilla folder

tossed onto a desk somewhere

too far gone in this lethargic bureaucracy to ever see justice

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Little girl,

I want you to know you deserve better than that

and you deserve better than this cold tile floor and this cheap cigarette and these baby-faced cops

and I wish I knew your name

I know you must not want to be called “little girl,”

but a little girl is all you should be

because it’s always been cruelty that makes little girls

become women

-

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[Edits for formatting reasons]

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