The hands I used to hold so proudly
Became the very weapons he used against me.
The joys of dating a man
I could only pretend to enjoy it so far.
Weeks of being only an object,
One for him to rip apart and shove together,
A doll taped and stitched into a contorted frame.
As only a man does, he took me apart,
Tested me, persuaded me,
Took my body, and made it his own.
Like a predator he waited -
Waited to get me alone.
After weeks of reminders of what he wanted to do to me,
What I stupidly agreed with,
It happened in a parking garage.
I, an idiot, followed him, even encouraged him.
My soul withered as my body became evidence.
As a stupid lesbian in denial,
I laid as a doormat for a man.
I feel as if my skin was torn away,
And my stomach regurgitated itself out of my throat,
Plugging my screams.
The smile, giggles, encouragement,
All to prove to myself that maybe
I wasn't just a man-hating ****
The views ****** upon me needed to work.
I just did everything to make them fit.
The cycle repeated;
Video calls, dates, messages,
Pictures, poems, drawings.
I was in a relationship with a man,
Worse than any hell.
I was not living,
But just performing for some sick boy,
One raised by a system who told him he could be anything,
And that I could only be a servant of men.
I have learned that some roles aren't worth playing.
Max
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 3:09 AM UTC
The hands I used to hold so proudly
Became the very weapons he used against me.
The joys of dating a man
I could only pretend to enjoy it so far.
Weeks of being only an object,
One for him to rip apart and shove together,
A doll taped and stitched into a contorted frame.
As only a man does, he took me apart,
Tested me, persuaded me,
Took my body, and made it his own.
Like a predator he waited -
Waited to get me alone.
After weeks of reminders of what he wanted to do to me,
What I stupidly agreed with,
It happened in a parking garage.
I, an idiot, followed him, even encouraged him.
My soul withered as my body became evidence.
As a stupid lesbian in denial,
I laid as a doormat for a man.
I feel as if my skin was torn away,
And my stomach regurgitated itself out of my throat,
Plugging my screams.
The smile, giggles, encouragement,
All to prove to myself that maybe
I wasn't just a man-hating ****
The views ****** upon me needed to work.
I just did everything to make them fit.
The cycle repeated;
Video calls, dates, messages,
Pictures, poems, drawings.
I was in a relationship with a man,
Worse than any hell.
I was not living,
But just performing for some sick boy,
One raised by a system who told him he could be anything,
And that I could only be a servant of men.
I have learned that some roles aren't worth playing.
Max
I am doing my best to let go of what happened. I have been in the trenches of PTSD, and as a result have been hospitalized twice for mental and physical issues stemming from it. I am doing my best, but I haven't been able to get up and make art for a few months since it happened. Apologies if this poem is rocky, or graphic, I do not intend to filter it anytime soon.
If you are in need of help, here are places you can contact (you can visit the websites, but I can't put numbers or URLs here)
RAINN
988 Crisis line
National Domestic Violence Hotline
Love is Respect (for teen dating violence)
Request permission to use this poem