By. Lauren

He touched me.
He yelled out to me.
Peacefully walking down the street when he reached out for me.
Making all the motions not seeming to care.
They said it was my fault.
But was I really asking for it?
Skinny jeans and a T-shirt.
Was I really the one to blame?
My hands were trained.
We keep to ourselves in a shameless game.
Why must we be trained?
Countless years in therapy still unable to erase the pain.
His force upon us.
Why must we learn to forget?
The scars are still there yet our eyes must not weep.
The tears shall not commence.
Because I was trained after that day to keep my mouth shut.
"Nothing happened to me" I was taught to say.
I am not an object.
I am just simply afraid to this day.
He touched me and that's all I am here to say.
Just from this day forward, I will keep my mouth shut like I did before.
My tongue is tied like it was taught to before.