The thoughts keep coming back
The ones that force me to remember
A few years ago
I had to endure
Your sharp teeth
Among my delicate flesh
Bruising my skin
When I kept telling you to stop it
When I kept trying to push you off of me
Screaming
Crying
Because I didn't want that
I didn't want you,
My step-sibling,
To give me hickies
Around the age of 9
I was scared
But you wouldn't budge
You just continued to create them
As if it was normal

You'd try to make me hide them
As if you painted black marks
On a board
And tried covering it over
With white
Every foundation we tried to use
Wouldn't be able to work
Because it was too light for me
And was dried out
And I would have to cover it
With my hair

I would have to live with the fact
That no matter what I try
To bring attention to
The hickies
You left on my face and neck,
No one would believe me
Or do anything about it
There was absolutely no discipline for you

Terribly tired of being your toy.

It’s not one man running at the speed of light
But a group of them
none of them knowing the other

We know it’s not all men
But every woman has a story
How come?

You put 100 women in a room
97 will fall unlucky
HOW  come?

It’s not all men
But it’s some
And it is every women
When does it end?

It never ends
HOW Come?

Don’t dress provocatively they said
And yet even your not
It still happens
They ignore the no’s and the pleas
To continue for their gain
HOW COME!

so the fight continues

Strip me bare of my humanity
Only leaving the empty flesh behind
Does it disgust you?
Musk and desperation
Violating her girlish senses
That throat burned raw
Scraping against the red, hot, constriction
He embeds himself
In crescents around budding brown
Does it make you sick?
As they gawk and ravage
At the sight of the freshly butchered
Rising and falling then still
Sensual with vitality
Yet immature in her fruition
Rotting before she hits the ground
Does it satisfy you?
Empty, bloodless, pleasure
All in your tainted hands
Gorge on my womb
I thank God it is empty
No longer sacred by means
Of all the nameless before you
Finally, place proof of your presence
Your moment of my lifetime
And strip me bare of my humanity
Leave that empty flesh behind.

“What’s the harm?” they whisper,
“What’s the problem
in being everyone’s fantasy?”
“In having all of your friends
find your flesh attractive?”
“Having the pretty privilege
morph into the entitlement of others?”

As they claim my skin
and caress my bones.
Peeling pieces of my body
and making themselves at home.

Consent is implied
within the lines
of whatever bond we hold.
Friends, family, lovers.
What’s the harm in giving them
what they want,
what they demand they need.
In watching them eat you up
With a never ending greed.

“But you’re my fantasy”
as if I’m obligated
to the impressions of me
you’ve shoved down my throat.
Until I’m choking and sobbing
pleading you to relinquish your hold.

Your eyes leave imprints and bruises
as you salivate over a body
I don’t even see.
It was only 3rd grade.
Again, when merely rending
the damaged goods of a teen.
By the time I was an adult
it was the only way I was seen.

But age matters not,
when you were never perceived
as a human being,
simply a desire
for others to devour.

“What’s the harm in being a *** dream?”
They scream “we’re all friends here”
as they render my sobriety to shreds
Only to tell me that it’s all in my head.

Society taught me to turn a blind eye,
“what’s the harm?” It said with a sigh.
They drugged me with ignorance,
refuting my plea.

A passing inconvenience for you
Born of my own naïveté,
is a trauma memory
that I can never undo.

There isn’t a piece of me
you’ve not seen,
nothing left of myself
to discover.
You’ve rendered my own exploration
into nothing more than a detour.

You’ve taken every first
I could have claimed
and thought to beat a dog
was the equivalent of making it tame. 
So now I’m sobbing into a void
wondering why I was ever
a thing that you could destroy?

When you were a kid, you had a favorite toy.
Be it a doll, a tiny truck, a car, a stuffy.
You did have one.

While you had one,
I was one.

I was played with.
Fed upon.
Made to be used and abused

Isn't it funny?
How some people are like like kids,
and Others are more like their pretty, little, shiny, toys.

"Oh mommy!" He would cry
"She is so pretty"
"So Cute"
"so wet..."

Malicious


I am not a toy
I am a real person
I am real

am I?

When did it all get turned upside down?
I really shouldn't be here
Will I ever live this down?
Couldn't you’ve just imagined me here?

It was years ago
and I should have known
I remember you
I was sixteen years old... however many years ago
I think I should remember, too

You're on the back of my mind,
and then you're on my neck
Is all we lost
truly behind us?

It was years ago,
you left me in the cold,
but I remember you
I was sixteen years old,
and yet I should have known
Will I ever remember, too?

If you're my hero
why did you let me down?
You really shouldn't be here
If you're my hero
why was I on the ground?
You got what you wanted

You’re on the back of my mind
when they’re on my neck
All of this because
of a broken, silent promise

we were only kids
thirteen and twelve
you'll never understand the grief you caused--
i lost myself

adrift in a world of nightmares flashing always, never ceasing
you had me on the run
from everything that i was thinking, wanting, feeling

tracking calories and body weight to regain control
spiraled into darkness with drugs and alcohol

my head is and was and always will be such a mess
i swear i screamed out NO but all you heard was Yes

~

what the **** happened to you

and, more importantly,

what happened to me?

Don’t you dare tell me it’s love,
don’t you dare tell me it’s “just life”,
when you’ve never carried the weight of choice,
when you’ve never had hands force themselves,
when you’ve never looked at your own body and felt—
disgust, betrayal, rage—
for something that was never yours to begin with.
You’ve never been thirteen, shaking in a cold clinic waiting room,
heart hammering with fear that the world will hate you,
body carved open by guilt, by doubt,
the shame tattooed like a brand on your skin.
And you think you know what love is?
You never see the hidden scars,
the marks left by hands uninvited,
by voices saying “boys will be boys” while my voice is silenced,
a whisper swallowed by the same mouths that judge me
for what they took.
Is that justice? Is that your idea of freedom?

You sit in leather,
sign your names on paper
that ultimately becomes chains,
binding bodies you will never know,
dictating futures you will never know.
you preach protection,
you wrap us in a lie called love,
while you slice away autonomy,
carve out dignity,
turn our pain into a headline,
our lives into statistics.
you do not know what it’s like to flinch,
to walk home at night with keys clenched tight
like weapons, like armor,
you do not know what it’s like to wonder
if you’ll be believed,
if justice even has a name,
if freedom even has a face.

And then they shake and cross your boundaries
Seem so fragile you don’t dare to breath it in
But you don’t wanna break their limbs
Neither keep them upon your skin

It takes up space in all the wrong ways
Evaporates
The price that I pay
It’s alright that I change
It’s alright that you stay