“Were there others?”
It’s a question that I’ve asked myself
But couldn’t ask you.
But were there others?
Who fell victim to you?
Or were they forced like me?
I’ve seen you, the way you act
With that pride I loath
I remember, the way you were
The way you used to be my best friend
The way I used to tell you things.
I know you weren’t always,
How I only think of you now
So when did you change?
When did you start to notice me?
To think about me?
We were young, but I know you weren’t naive.
Did you pretend it was someone else?
When you tried to kiss me?
But my heart just pounded
And sometimes I just froze.
I didn’t know what to do.
But does anyone ever know?
So were there others?
Because I want to ask them
What they did when you touched them
Because it’s been decades since that time
And I can still remember you
Cornering me in my room
And shutting the door.
And the last thing
I still remember is how I tried
To hide in my closet
But how you found me.
And after ten minutes of struggles
And pains
You grabbed my hand
And squeezed it really hard
Until it all went numb
And whispered, “If you tell anyone,
I’ll **** you.”
And so I didn’t tell anyone
Because I had already died that day.
So were there others?
Because for their sake,
I wish there wasn’t.