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A dancer forced to apply her skills in unwanted ways
tap, tap, tap
I'll never forget how Kindrea could dance. Almost since the moment she could walk.
When I close my eyes I can hear the delicate tap tap tap from her wooden toe point shoes, placing themselves, on that large wooden stage.
Long legs you wouldn't believe, black hair to her waist, and delicate hands with soft, white, long fingers. She was always a girls girl. Feminine, giddy, fashionable, popular and I might add always being courted by one boy or another.
She cries to write;
Dear Diary, when did I get here?
You are new to me
Know the first pink tutu I ever wore sported the most beautiful silk bow on my lower back
That's the beginning of what was remembered and brought me here
Worked her points, at age, so hard daily toes that bled
Almost silent wood on air in my landing, she entered stage left and leaped
A miracle was born and it was extended from her hips down
Many years perfected her poise, steps and grace
In private jumping and screaming for joy endlessly
One morning, now the featuring act on the board
Held hope though terribly lonely stretching out in her pink silk sheets
When the phone rang, as usual fooled the world to believe wide awake in promise
Waking had became a naked solo whisper game
How many routines could she call out
From the bell of somebody's cell
Acting breathless but chipper Hello came from her mouth
Only to be held from a stranger insulting the endorsement, her job now, in grave danger
The cell fell to the floor as she put her fist through the door
Mistake had to be it, such unprofessional hacks, disregard then, and for work as she packed
No tears, head high, no turning back to see what just died
Words are infectious in any Industry
Word was out Kindrea's known shoes had become musty
Switching from perspective changes in person given the events that transpired next
Arriving on stage, full dress rehearsal, walking out routines she squeezed herself
She was warned to leave or be escorted out
No employment entertained her there anymore
She was a clown in a house among beasts now
Feasts younger dancers carded reservations coming
In a single breath she could be anyone of them, anyone
Surrender came with rock bottom when her name was murdered for good
tap tap tap wooden thoughts
Tap tap tap tapped out of cash and broke
Her life only knew a physical profession
A physical form of attention
And a physical perfection
Only natural when the Adult Film Industry
came recruiting stronger the weaker she got
It broke her down to do one film and keep physical
Unfamiliar but not, rent was due with one weeks grace
Just one film turned to dozens
Blood in the water
Time to switch Unions
Blood on her clothing
No blood on her toes
An entire different rhythm now
Men became somethin of haters
Then worse, numb
Performances were perfect, still the feature
Her humble breasts dictated
What would happen next
She hated how her dream and her nightmare
Felt the same
The reality of her new name
A new star was born
In the film of porn
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|Reviewed by Budd Nelson
A fetching story of one adored and then used, an always agonizing fall. The harder to recuperate from. Thank you for sharing it here.
|Reviewed by William Huff
|Mary Shelley, the so-precious author of "Frankenstein," a timeless gift of an author, as you are, Kimberly, equally masterful, equally transformative, and as much, breathtaking, and seemingly for you, she wrote:
"I do not wish women to have power over men; but over themselves."
God bless you....I wish for much joy in your precious, precious life..