A Lolita Effect

What happens to a certain type of girl when she picks up the book that changes everything, and nothing at all. Maybe because the revolutions are quiet; or maybe because it was there all along.

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1. A Lolita Effect

I read Lolita,

Before stockings were symbols,

Not clothing.

And men were aging cherished

Books.

Before lips were scarlet

Red or nothing at all.

When Humberts were locked up

In jails, not hearts.

When Youth was youth,

Not by calendar dates and birthday candles.

 

Reading made my own hairs

Pushing through pallid skin

Repulse me.

Frowns and pimples irk me.

Anything that was womanly

Wasn’t pretty.

My self worth tip-toed across

The opinions of a

Fictitious

Self-confessed madman.

However, he was first

An artist.

 

I would rather see ribcages

And not folds of unneeded bulk.

To wear nymphet's clothes and swing

Downy limbs

Around the necks of starved and lusted men.

 

I had once had

A childish thought

That love was printed

Gentle,

Appearing through film kisses, sunsets and charming crowns.

 

The crowns were no longer as lustre

As the twisted,

Rotten,

Crevasses of longing,

I read about and prayed

To a god that wouldn’t love me,

To fall upon my doorstep,

To stay forever.

 

And then I become proud of my murky thoughts

The sirens became idols.

I joined a religion 

Infested with confused adolescents 

Burdened and set free,

With a

Sexuality so 

Powerful and tender

They couldn't and wouldn't control.

 

On the dotted line, I sketched Dolores.

At breakfast I would be plain Lo, and be little over four feet ten in one sock.

I wore slacks to fit the skin of Lola.

At school they wouldn't call me Dolly.

On faint dotted lines and corners of jotters I sketched Dolores.

 

But with an aching, heart

I found no arms to be Lolita.

No one wanted a thickly-thighed,

woman-knee,

generous,

timid

nymphet.

My cherry-infected blood

Ran cold.

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