Why do I call you mine
when I want nothing to do with you
why do I call the memory ours
when the only thing we shared was air and a ****** bed
why do I think you own me
just because your voice telling me to be quiet is all that I hear when you're around
arms twisted behind my back,
pinned beneath you until you finished
pulling up your pants, tossing my ******* at me,
and telling me "you're bleeding"
when only an hour before you called me yours