the first words ever etched on my skin,
read in chicken scratch handwriting;
pecadora sucia, dirty sinner.
always was, and will always be.
the day i first went to holy communion prep,
my heart beating out of my chest,
my breathing so quick yet so slow,
time moving at a snail’s pace.
i cried in the bathroom one too many times,
remembering the words uttered by the older ladies at church.
dirty sinner, whore, slut.
always was, and will be.
the pew never looked so intimidating,
as i sat in the small church.
i dropped out of preparation,
with the excuse of not being ready yet.
i watched as all the others were blessed,
receiving their bread and wine of the day.
i could feel them glare holes in my skull,
the whispers never dying down, but this time,
this time i believed them.
pedcadora sucia, dirty sinner, too proud for her own good.
always was, and will be.
it is a title i am used to,
and have learned to embrace.
with the devil by my side,
and the gods looking down in disgrace,
i have never felt the need to pray.
- R.K.