I didn't want for her to kiss me
But I'm not sure what to do
Now she's tugging at my clothes
And I'm not sure if I want to;
All my friends said go for it, shes fit fine and cute
Why the **** not? What are you some type of *****?
But surely it's up to me what I do in the ****,
Is my choice if I do or don't want to.

Now she’s kissing more aggressive
And I'm not kissing back
As her hands run along my body
I wonder if asked for that
Did I give all the signals,

Do I beg for the touch?
Just cause I don't say no doesn’t mean I haven't had enough.

I feel a bit dizzy with all the drink
I stumble and she’s right there ready to catch me.
My whole world seems to spin,
She asks if need to lie down,
I nod and she grins
So she leads now to what is the scene of the sin
She pushes me on to the bed, the mattress cushions my fall
And I curl up my legs to my chest to form a ball,
I think it’s all over, finally I can get get some rest
And wake up in the morning to nothing more than a memory I'll forget

But she gets right next to me
So I close both eyes,
I wish that she won't,
But to my surprise
Again no words come out
The only thing leaving my mouth
Is her snake tongue as she slithers in and out.

The next parts a blur
While she gets hers
And I'm just lying there
While she unbuttons my shirt.
I'm doubting myself, is this all I'm worth?
Is this what happens to them all
While she gets hers?
And she's kissing my neck
Long wet kiss weighing heavy
And I'm angry and upset
Confused and hurt
She never asked she just took
But I can't help but think I must of asked for this.

Now she grabs it and tugs, forces it in
Seared in my brain is that sly cheshire grin.
Maybe this was the moment when the fault became mine;
I should have pushed her off
Instead being another rabbit caught in the lights.
But my strength was gone I just feel so weak
Surely soon it will be over then I can sleep.
The slapping of skin bounces off the walls and slaps me,
Shes calling me names while riding viciously
Saying I love it, not asking if she should stop
Or how I am, she’s slowly killing what makes me feel like a man
But how, how can she not see
This is not what I wanted?
She must be able see the tears, Recognise the fear,
It must be my fault or surely we wouldn't be here.
No person would do this to another out of choice
She must be just as confused
I should have used my voice
I should have said no
But now it’s too late, I've lost all control.

She's done and moves off slowly
Her heavy breaths makes me gag reflexively

I feel ***** and used I just wanna cry,
Surely she’s not a ****** the fault must be mine?
I should have shouted for help
I should have put up a fight
I should have screamed no
Till it echoed in the night

At least now it's done
I can start to forget,
Bury it deep inside of me and move on with what’s next.
But it doesn't go away,
It lingers and stays
It not easy to forget when you’re made to make love
Cause isn't that what it is more than just another ****?

And that’s what we forget,
So I'm speaking to all the women and men
Because the key word is consent
And the absence of consent doesn't mean that you can
Use your voice before you steal from another human.

©Gregory Loftman

I am not a sealed container that has not been purchased
I cannot be bought with paper and stacks of bills, I am not what you get out of currency
Shuffle me in between categories, I am only a human being
I am not replaceable, despite my claim for it
I am not a pleasure box, I am not toys, I am not an object
You cannot talk me out of my resistance
If my doors are locked, you cannot welcome yourself inside, forced entry is what they call it
You are compelled by urges I do not want to satisfy,
When all I want is a conversation, but filth is all that roams your mind
Your apologies are sorry's that emerge into a sea of forgotten,
And my feelings keep towering over my guard that was built for protection and fighting
But tell me this, if I said "no", then why are we still talking?

n.j.

Consent.
What does that even mean?
***?
What is that?
If we’re both drunk does it count?
Because I am the definition
of awkward.
So a drink in me might
do her a favor.
But just for the first time.
So I’m comfortable enough
to draw my line,
Or the line of hickeys
I left on your neck.
Consent.
Because you’re awkward, too.
A lovely Shade of shy.
But all I could do was look you
in the eyes 
and say you’re beautiful.
Then a tear streamed down your face.
And all that came out was
Are you sure this is okay?
Consent.
Because I’m not comfortable,
the way you’re comfortable.
The way taking off my shirt
feels like letting the sea inside me.
So I’ll keep my pants on,
until the lights are off.
And even then,
my scars are screaming.
It’s ringing in my ear,
my biggest fear.
When she stops and whispers,
are you sure this is okay?
The first time I’ve ever heard
those words.
Was the first time I felt free.
For the first time,
I didn’t feel *****.
When you whisper in my ear.
I thought, Baby!
I love it when you talk
consent to me.

Let's talk about consent for a minute
                    When I said no
                        I meant no

I did not mean
               Give me a few more drinks
                                  Or
                    Wait until I'm drunk

And I definitely did not mean
                                Yes

Let's talk about this for a minute
              Drunk does not mean yes
                   Only yes means yes
                            I said no

Trigger warning:



I thought there was love in your eyes
When all that was there was lust.

I thought you wanted to hold my hand,
But all you wanted was in my pants.

You mistook my "No"s for moans,
Regardless that there was tears in my eyes.

You left me alone after,
And I haven't seen you since it happened.

Left by the roadside to rot,
Dirt in my knotted hair.

I still can't walk at night without fear,
And I haven't felt alive since the day you killed what was inside.

Out of all the words in the human languages, almost is the cruelest.
                                              I almost loved you.
                                              I almost won.
                                              I was almost there.


                                              I was almost *****.

When he snuck into the room like a wolf stalking its prey, my stomach didn’t almost tie in knots.
            It became a sailor’s masterpiece.

When he laid beside me as quiet as a stone, I wasn’t almost shaking.
            I was a leaf on the San Andreas Fault.

When his long, spidery fingers began trailing down my back, it didn’t almost feel like razors.
            He cut so deep the skin began to peel back and expose every    
            insecurity that I’ve hidden away between my vertebrae.

His fingers didn’t almost dig into my arm,
            they became shovels that dug a hole big enough for a casket.

Bruises didn’t almost blossom across my skin,
            I was a primrose bush in full bloom and he was the gardener.

When he coerced himself between my thighs, I didn’t almost scream.
            Years of ancestral abuse surged through my lungs and out my lips  
            into a battle cry.

When he tried to force his hand inside of me I didn’t almost feel spoiled.      
             I was a fruit rotting from the inside out, something that no one  
            would ever want.

And when my screams finally drove him off of me, I wasn’t almost okay.
             I was paralyzed with fear and disgust and shame.

Everything I’ve ever believed in slapped me in the face as I told myself:
                                      This is what I get for liking ***.
                                      I shouldn’t be so easy.
                                      I was asking for it.


                                      It was my fault.

I felt like a butterfly, beautiful but ruined by a man’s touch.
             Never to fly again.

But the truth is, a butterfly sheds scales throughout its lifetime,          
             regenerating its wings.

So when a man reaches for your wings in attempts to rip them off
             remember that you are not what he thinks you are.

Remember that it is never your fault.
             Not even almost.

When I yelled "No"
You tightened your grip on my throat,
and whispered *"You know you want it"