Linea nigra dark midline streak on a 22 weeks pregnant female. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
by Robin Blogs About It
I met you when I was incarcerated. You would sneak into my cell in the middle of the night when no one else was on duty but you. It was a small facility for juvenile offenders and I had been caught running away from home. At night they only needed one person on duty. And that was you.
You flirted with me and I felt pretty in my baggy blue jumpsuit that looked just like everyone else. You took me and my best buddy in there outside one night in front of the place to smoke cigarettes you had bought for us. Then later you unlocked my cell, my enclosed room with the stainless toilet and the camera in the ceiling, and you took my baggy jumpsuit off and made me feel desired like a woman.
When I was released to a group care home you called on me like it was a real date. But instead of taking me out for a pizza or a movie, you took me back to your apartment and we had sex. Then you took me back to the group care home.
You stopped calling. Your roommates fielded my calls. They told me you were at work, or playing tennis. I stopped calling and then I stopped having my period. Continue reading
