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Dear Pornography,
I never personally knew you – it was my husband who introduced us
First in a Fitness magazine, then in the rejection of my touch
I always smelled your stench
My own hands released the buttons of my wedding gown
An occasion meant for the fingers of my groom
That hotel pillow was not fluffed enough to carry the weight of my tears
With skewed intimacy as your weapon, you robbed us of connection
My husband a perfect victim
An involuntary organ donor, you extracted his heart
Before raping the beauty of our sex, you claim it was consensual
Yet your memories often tainted the sacred in our sheets
Much like the photos that polluted the memory of his phone
His eyelids had been branded
Visions of you are what he saw – your silhouette between us
Two souls that God designed to be one, now more detached than ever before
You were number three
The woman on the side yet you lived inside our home
Call it a silent affair
A quiet addiction whose dealer is mobile – his crack house inside your pocket
Pornography
Your business is booming
With 40 million Americans devoted to you
You yield more revenue than the NBA, MLB, and NFL combined
Yet we don’t call it sex slavery – because, “It’s only done online”
So 50% of marriages are breaking while 50 Shades of Grey is breaking box office records
While little boys are taught that your effects are natural, recreational
You are not Xbox
You get them while they’re young
I worry for my future son
Defenseless consumers whose innocence you breach
Unlocking doors of their minds too narrow to be opened
My husband was one of them
He met you at 12, he’s now 1 of 200,000
Young men who are led by brothers and peers
On expeditions of images through the internet and smartphones
An encourager of secrets, you often hide in the dark
Like monsters under beds only your snarl goes unheard
You’ve taught me I’m not beautiful unless I am porn
That you are a war and men are your casualties
Naked women on screens now gunshots to my ears
I am your veteran
I thought prayer would act as antidote to his illness
But the fine print never told him that your side effects are lethal
Silent killer of relationships
Your fingerprints were found on the body bag of our marriage
Pornography
I always knew I smelled your stench
It still lingers through the hallways of my heart
Sincerely,
Jennifer