(Leo in Brussels)

When I was 12, I met this man

He told me I was beautiful

He told me I was young

He said, “You’re over 18, right?

He offered me a beer

He handed it to me

The bubbles of the beer made my hand and arm move

And my whole body began to sparkle

Then he said, “You’re beautiful. Just relax”.

His hand went to my chest

It caressed my skin

While my body sparkled, he said over and over again

“you’re beautiful”

I stopped

I wasn’t doing anything

He did everything, sometimes he even did too much, sometimes he even hurt me

“You are beautiful” he said

And his hands would go away and I’d go back to my homework

And when my homework took too long, and when my skin aged, I would go back and hear once again

“You’re beautiful”

Then there were others

In hotels, in cellars, in their cars

I was beautiful for all those men

And I felt great, and I felt powerful, and I felt privileged that no one else was as beautiful as I was

So maybe they thought I was the most beautiful.

And then everything stopped, everything got buried, and I never felt beautiful again

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