i remember when you asked me
about "the night"
afraid if you gave it a name
it'd come back like a sick dog
how when i finally told you
you screamed where are they
looking me up and down
like i was harboring them
like fugitives
which, in a sense
i was
i remember you looking at my chest
like you could take a
baseball bat to it any second
it's a good thing i told you
my hands
so you wouldn't blame
yourself anymore
when i didn't want to touch you
i didn't tell you
it pulls my hair
and twists my arm
and drags me to my knees
when i'm alone
and it trickles out
the corners of my mouth
when nice boys don't say please
when they say let me
when they say trust me
when they say i love you
when i resign to polite terror
i don't tell you it's on my skin
every time i enter crowded rooms
i don't tell you it's in your face
and my face
and every face of everyone i see

i never told you why
i only kiss you with the lights off

because that would only scare you
and what use is it
to let them hurt you too