When did your arms become so heavy I can’t escape,
Before I go farther, let me say this is not a poem about ****.
But how does your smile look genuine, while your eyes don’t look sincere.
Maybe I’m seeing the reflection of mine, that explains the flashes of fear.
Your fingers burn on my skin, isn’t this supposed to feel good?
The tight grips on small places, everyone said it would.
The more I try to stop you, the more I realize you have control.
Why can’t I get you off me, your body swallows me whole.
You laugh when I say no, taking all of my power away,
You laugh like it’s a game, just like any other day.
I grab your hand wherever it moves, trying to stop you in your tracks.
Over and over you say the same words, “c’mon, just relax.”
You aren’t a stranger, I know you, I know your parents, your friends.
I never expected this, how did I miss it, I looked through the wrong lens.
My head is screaming, glancing at the door I want someone to walk through.
Interrupt us, save me from this moment, but there’s no one to turn to.
I push, twist and rip my wrists from your grasp, standing free.
The smile is wiped from your face, I feel a tremble in my knee.
Jaw clenching, you realize you aren’t getting your way.
You get your things, crack a joke before heading for the doorway.
You almost leave, but not before saying “wow didn’t know you were so lame.”
One more carefully placed move as you continue your game.
Those words carve into my body with a ragged ***** knife.
I doubt I'll ever forget them for the rest of my life.
I told you it wasn’t a poem about ****, didn’t I?
But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a victim or a bad guy.