Am I candy
or eye-candy?
Was I candy the night
he violently unwrapped me and
stripped me of my striped coating
his flesh slick with sweat, always rubbing?  
His ravenous lust was too much to contain.
Just like a man’s anger when he shoots up a school.
His hands found mine when I fought
melding into manacles before
cementing himself at my core.
I didn’t want this.

I am not candy.
My sweetness has long melted.
There’s a biting bitterness in me now
injected right between my hips.