the boy who grabbed me at a party
and ran his hand up my inner thigh
while i stood tense and
pushed his hand away
lives on the 13th floor of my building
i get to ride the elevator with him
while he takes out his trash
and somehow i feel ashamed
the air in the elevator seems to disappear
i have to remind myself how to breathe
i think about how i should not have worn
THAT costume
because somehow my clothes act as
an invitation to my body
and when my friend sees him get in the elevator
she can no longer speak
and when the doors to my floor finally open
i cannot stop myself from crying
the tears feel hot running down my cheeks
and i have to remind myself
that the air is safe to breathe
that my body belongs to me
that i did not invite this