She’d seen her parents drunk over a thousand times.
She saw them argue one thousand more.
Sex was her vice, and after a while, her babies were everywhere, all playing with purple Easter eggs.
Their fathers were all scattered, and a story about a resurrected savior had been drilled in her head over and over again.
Deep inside of her heart she was still broken and no man ever looked her in the eyes to bear witness of her true beauty.
They called her the goddess of fertility because every week she was with a new guy bearing his child.
She’d come to accept that sex was natural, it gave her wonderful loving children.
She was never alone…
How ironic.
Purple Fertility
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