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Alex May 10
Dear Dad,
That’s all I ever wanted you to be. A dad, my dad. I didn’t expect you to be a great dad, or even a good dad, but you never made any attempt to be anything close to a dad at all. You did try to be other things to me though. A dictator, a manipulator, even a ****** partner. You may say that I wanted it, you might even actually believe that, but I assure you that my compliance was not an indication of my enjoyment. Compliance was simply the only option you gave me. I saw the way you looked at me long before you ever put your hands on me, but you waited. You waited until you’d pushed me to the brink of insanity. You made me question my reality so much that I’d believe anything you told me. Then on top of that, you found a way to make everyone in our family question every word that I ever uttered in preparation for the day that I’d tell them what you’d done because you knew that eventually, I would. You planned out every piece of what you did so perfectly. Even after I’d come out with the truth you made sure that the walls around me crumbled before yours did. All I ever wanted was for you to be my dad, but you couldn’t even give me that.
Atticus Apr 25
‘You’re so wet for me baby’ they say
‘You’re not saying no’
Rinse repeat

It hurts I say
‘That’s normal ‘

It is what it is what it is what it is
My words stop

‘You’re so quiet’ they say

If I unzip my abused vocal chords I won’t be able to stop the noise
Keening screaming bursting like a dam

It’ll fill up my head
My ******* bone marrow
Where do I begin and where do you end flush against me

I am good at being quiet
I am good at being small
I am good at being needed
I am good at pleasing others
I am good at saying yes when I mean;
Get me out
You are choking me
I can’t breathe
There’s is blood on my teeth
On my hands

I held you after you assaulted me and you told me about what was plaguing your mind
So I comfort you
Rinse repeat
Tell you I’ve got you through gritted teeth

Is that so bad is that so bad I am needed so why is it so ******* bad

You fill my lungs acrid and burning
Inhale exhale
Inhale exhale
**** and ***** coat your lips like a gaudy lipgloss

Wash away the taste of you
Clean my teeth with dettol
Empty my veins clean the dirt out my veins
Trying to forget the way you coat my teeth

Your mouth is so good baby’ you say
It is bad honey and expired milk

It is not being touched since
It is not sleeping
It is wanting to be held but being terrified of the thought
emily Oct 2022
I was 17 when it happened
I trusten them
It was going well
Until it wasn't
And a fun day with a friend became a nightmare
They invited me over
To play on their xbox and watch tv
But watching tv became perverse
Their hand drifted towards me
And became an uninvited guest that I never wanted
It all went too fast, too unknwn too wrong
I became a stranger in my own skin
No longer aware of what was happening
Like a passenger on a ride
Watching my own body a few feet away
It was suffocating the corruption of what he did to me
Years later i still remember his body on top of mine
And the smell of sweat is still **** in my nose
And i try to distract myself from the uncontrollable shaking that i can't stop
But all I can think about is his hands on my throat
And the fear that still lingers today.
Till this day i have never spoken of this
But today I have immortalised the day that I wish to forget.
im sorry im so so sorry
I am sat. Awestruck.
I look to the woman on my left.
I look to the woman on my right.
I look to the front.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
How dare they out me like this?
The woman to my left knows that she hasn't.
The woman to my right knows that she hasn't.
That leaves me.
Raw and exposed.
I did not give consent for this to be shared.
This was my secret.
My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but I do despite.
Did they plan this?
They must have known.
There must be a seating plan somewhere.
Someone did some digging around.
But how?
I told no one.
This was my secret.
My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but do despite.
Anger creeps up inside.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
I dig my nails into the palm of my hand and I squeeze.
Blood is drawn.
I look down at my hand.
The woman on my left does the same.
Cover it quick.
I look forward.
They are still talking.
I process nothing.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
They are still talking.
What are they saying?
Finally I tune back in to their closing line,
Reiterating their first point:
I watched Prima Facie tonight and it really touched me. This is my raw response to the play.
Gabriel Jan 2022
that night, i wore a polo shirt.
i thought hey, i'm going to a friend's
dorm, no need to dress up, right?

so i wore a polo shirt, a yellow and blue and pink
thing. i'd bought it from a charity shop
only weeks earlier, when i was still exploring
a new university town
and finding not-so-hidden gems;
and sure, it was three sizes too big
but it was comfortable, and made me feel safe.

turns out, you didn't care about polo shirts
or tank tops. you cared about what was underneath
and i was drunk enough to let you - or,
well, not really let you, but i didn't need to dress up
so i wore baggy clothes and a smile
so i had half a bottle of jack daniels
and i had a nineteen year old point to prove
and i had a pill that you gave me
and i had - sorry, have - a therapist's bill.

but this isn't about you. i don't write about you.
i make a point of not writing about you,
actually. which is to say that i write about you
in a way that doesn't let you hurt me anymore.
i write about what i was wearing
(did i deserve it? in my 1970s male t-shirt?)
or what i was drinking
(it was university)
or how i tried to throw myself into a river
in the aftermath
(but i didn't, because i got thirsty, and i didn't
want to die thirsty, so i went home).
no, i'm writing about the polo shirt i was wearing.

cotton, i think. polyester, probably.
the amazing technicolour haze of am i sober enough for this?
who knows how many iterations
of the same lancaster charity shop
it circled through, old men with families
and wives and kids -
it probably saw birthdays and christmases
and, safely tucked in the back of a closet,
shielded itself from the almost-crisis of cuban missiles.

and then, me. a nineteen year old
branching out into the world for the first time;
a lover of poetry, maker of music, naïve and beautiful.
then, it was just a polo shirt, and i wore it
as long as it was laundered, for a month or so,
until december. not that i stopped wearing it
because it was cold. it just reminded me of hands
and hands and hands and
****, how many hands can a man have?
how long will i have to feel them?

i didn't shower the day after, just slept.
a hangover, right? just a hangover.
and then, when the hot water in my dorm
daily ticked on, i washed every inch of myself
to get rid of you, and your foam banana shower gel
that your mother probably told you to buy.

so, what compensation do you owe me?
what price should i put on things?
you touch it, so you pay for it.
one charity shop shirt, three pounds please.
oh this is DARK my apologies <3 i'm fine <3
Talia Oct 2021
Malice ripples
lying low, under
penetrating nightlife strobe.

None to show.

Limp bodies
'getting loose'
In truth,
injected with poison;
a slow-acting noose.

Repulsive actions of the
vile & depraved
endorsed at raves.
indigochild Sep 2021
I am a crumpled sheet of paper in the hands of my predators
Their hands snaked around me, squeezing the life from my body, leaving me to collapse into their want
Too young to realize, too weak to fight back
                                                He choose the game he wanted to play
                                                and I became a dice he could roll around
                                                in the palm of his hands
                                                         But this body is my temple, you lost                                               my game and there will never be round two
My own thoughts strangled me as my body refused to listen to my brain
To touch my skin felt like fire burning through my veins, fire that ignited my predator
Hopelessly sinking into the bed that became an ocean, water drowning me and continuously pulling me further down
                                                        ­ She destroyed my innocence where
                                                       “playing house” meant I played victim
                                                         and she played the predator
                                                        ­ But this body is my temple and you
                                                         did not receive an invite to my
                                                         house p­arty
They had the power to take my dignity into the palm of theirs hands and crumble it up
We are told when we crumble up a sheet of paper, you can never make it the way it was before
                                                      ­    He threw me over his shoulder like a
                                                   rag doll and brought me to the place that
                                     was once “my room”and is now “my nightmare”
                                  But this body is my temple and not for you to play
                                                 with like a doll you received on a holiday
Words disintegrating from my lips with the ashes of consent and destroying my trust for any human to touch my skin
Circling the drain of intimacy
                                                    ­ They strapped me down and taught me
                                                        that crying meant I was “asking for it”
                                                             But this body is my temple and
                                                             my ­words are louder than your lies
I wear the damage on my heart
My body used against me more than the number of fingers on my hand
                                                       But this body is my temple and when I
                                                                ­           broke free of your *******,
                                                        ­                 my temple grew taller than
                                                                ­          your hands could touch me
I am a crumpled sheet of paper escaping the hands of my predator
Destiny C Sep 2021
SA Trigger Warning*

I can still remember the couch.
The way I cried in my friend's arms when I thought of that couch.
Pinned down.
Forcefully used.
On the couch.


I still remember going into my apartment alone after.
The way my body shaked for nights spent crying in my bed after.
At my friend's apartment after.
In the hospital after.
Years after.


They say the mind can forget sometimes,
but what always remembers the trauma is the body.
The one that kicked and fought off the body.
The one that layed under the body.
The violated body.
The tortured body.
The unsafe body.

The Body


The Couch...

was never the same.
Not for me to blame.

I know that now.
If you or someone you know has been subjected to ****** assault. Please be aware that you can contact the ****** Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673 (US).
gray Jun 2021
There are eight hundred different ways to describe
the way that I feel when I look into your eyes:
is it anger? Regret? Sadness? Fear?
Did you know I haven't forgotten you all of these years?

Yes, you did hurt me and for that, I cried for
almost three months you can't be surprised-
because what you took from me? Something so pure,
and turned me into something else, that wasn't there before.

It's been a while-; I'm glad of that.
I see you've changed and I'm proud of that.
I hope your new girl won't get hurt like me-
please don't leave her in tears and ruined sexually.
it's been a couple years, and I've never fully talked about the ****** assault I faced with my ex boyfriend when I was 15. But I feel like this is one of the best ways I can put it: I don't know how I feel when I see him, and I don't know how to feel about his friends. But I do hope "I" is okay- don't you dare hurt her.
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