Reality
By Christie Cottom
I remember smelling the fragrance of freedom in the subtle breeze,
sweat from my perfect thighs rolling off the seat.
Baby blue clouds off in the distance,
alone by myself, no children in existence.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see my lost identity
The person I had a chance to become but was derailed with the death of my virginity.
Rays of sunshine meeting my face felt so lovely,
I was eighteen again without having to be motherly.
People all around, cars bumper to bumper,
Pull up to an awe-inspiring cottage on the water.
Climb out and remember that there are no car seats to unlatch,
no kids to tell “quiet or else you’re taking a nap!”.
Oh how easy life feels, careless and young,
beautiful soft hair, and a tight perfect bum.
While bathing in the sun, a startling siren alarms
I sit up and four familiar children appear,
I tell them they aren’t mine and they then look at me with fear.
Suddenly I feel cold and excess weight on my body,
Open my eyes and there I lay in my bed, no longer a hotty.
Deceived by my dreams of what my life might have been,
I feel raped by reality and heart broken.
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