I was fifteen
when I said no
but a hand pressed against the back of my neck
as tears ran down my face  
he said "if you loved me you'd do it.
you wouldn't be crying"
and he took what he wanted anyways.
I wish I'd known better;
I wish I'd told my mother.

I was seventeen
Dating the only boy I've ever  I loved
when his fingers grazed my neck
and I cried
and apologized because
I couldn't explain why.
I couldn't tell my mother.

I was twenty one
when I finally realized what happened to me
wasn't the way it was supposed to be
and I lost something I didn't know I had
that I'd never know why;
that I should've listened to my mother

I was twenty three
when he returned
with the audacity to ask if I wanted to hook up
I wish I'd had the courage to say something
to tell him what he did wasn't fair
that I should've known better,
that he should've been better;
that I wish I'd listened to my mother.