in a room full of toys
bought for my silence
I sit on my bed with a boy
who I had never seen act with violence
he tells me he loves me
and that what he is doing was normal
and no one will ever know if I just agree...
to shut up and stay quiet
but this boy is no boy, he is my father
and I am only five years old
but I know I am bothered
as he begins to touch me
and I don't understand what he's doing
I sit and I plea
for someone to stop him and save me, but he just kept going

for a while, he continued to do it
until one day, he realized I was too old for the abuse
he knew I would no longer willingly submit
but I thought he was someone I could trust
as I sat in my room full of my toys and my tears
I blamed myself for my father's lust
and I decided to stay quiet for many more years

I'm 12 and my father moved and I told myself he won't be missed
my mother then told me she was also one of the abused
just one of many victims on my dad's long list
I was told there were many girls just like me that he used
and my brain filled with rage
but my heart told me he wasn't that bad
that I should start a new chapter, a new page.
because, after all, he was just my dad

I'm thirteen and I'm walking to the store
it's hot so I'm wearing a skirt and a shirt
a man drives by, slows down, and calls me a *****
I’m shocked beyond words and wondering what I witnessed
my mind races because the man was twice my age
and my skirt isn't short and I'm a child, I should be of no interest

I'm 15 and I'm at a party with some of my friends
and I see a boy who I had only met one offers me a few drinks
feeling a little tipsy, I thought to lay down until the party ends
when, then, the boy I had made my acquaintance walks in
he starts to kiss and touch me and at first I don't resist his advances
I let it happen for a while because my head began to spin
but I knew I couldn't let him take advantage
I got up but he forced me down to my knees
but I stopped him again and told him no
and he pushed me aside and called me a tease

I'm 17 and I'm watching the news
I watch victims come forward accuse men like Nassar, Trump, and Weinstein
and watch men on social media who are assaulting women just for the views
those same men who have several victims now have slates that are clean
while their victims are called liars
or that they're asking for it because of their skirt length
because coming out as a victim always backfires
and women are seen as weak when they don't have the strength

because in their eyes
my father was a good guy, he was just sick
and the man who drove by wasn’t telling lies
my skirt was too short and I shouldn’t go out like that because other’s judgements of me are quick
what will anyone think of a girl with a skirt that doesn’t cover her whole thighs


if only society realized I am not defined by my clothes
or my looks or what's in between my legs
and being nice to someone doesn't mean that anything goes
because if I wanted you, a yes would be your cue
and I no longer see myself as a victim but rather a survivor
I am glad to be here to say #METOO

She moved like smoke.
Wafting about.
Tempting.
As smooth as warm water.
Holding her would be like sliding into a hot shower on a cold day.
I'd imagine her whisper to be like caramel.
Despite what I imagine though.
Regardless of what I see when I look at her.
She still finds herself standing in the rain.
Jumping in puddles hoping one of them will be deep enough to consume her entirely.
Cursing herself because she can't dodge the raindrops.
I'll never ask her to come in from the rain.
That'd be asking her to change who she is.