(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
