The first time it happened I was 5 I was lured by candy as children are All I can remember is hands and pain And being told to not remember And I when I speak on it All I can hear is familial silence And stares that tell me to not speak up at all When CPS came knocking on the door I covered for him. My mom asked me why Why I didn’t tell her all these years My response was simple: I did the first time it happened It continued still, you were drunk after all I wasn’t the first he did it to And I’m sure I wasn’t the last It’s weird to tell people to not joke about ****** It’s weird to tell people my first experience was when I was five It’s weird to tell people I remember It’s weird to pretend I don’t
The second time it happened I was 15 With my first ever boyfriend I was out cold, and he did as he did I don’t remember much, but this He’s checked my pulse and he bragged For months I didn’t realize what happened I could not register what it was I told my mom, I could see she blamed me I could see trust wane in her rise I could tell she didn’t see it how it hurt me I was 15 and asleep He was 16 and awake And somehow I blame myself It’s weird to tell people I still love him It’s weird to tell people I forgave It’s weird having to tell people it wasn’t my fault And it’s weird losing friends over it
Third time it was with my boyfriend again I wasn’t asleep I wasn’t a child I was scared He held me still I said no but he didn’t know I was serious Tears slipped out of my eyes I froze in terror I cried for hours afterwards I knew what it was, he knew what it was I blame myself. I told him no. No. No. No. Now I flinch when someone touches the back of my head I am wounded It’s weird to tell people it happened again It’s weird I still love him after all of it It’s weird to forgive again It’s weird
They were hundreds of times between Of men touching what they weren’t supposed to Of I’m making comments about me Coercing me Making me a part of their perversions Of believing flirting is ticket for their ****** harassment Of making me instinctively hate men. Victim blaming Degrading Sexualizing I am yet a woman It’s weird to not be a woman It’s weird to be a talking point It’s weird to be silenced It’s weird.
How to tell when to take words at face value, Not to misread into things, Making two plus two equal five, Not to analyse each word, Expecting to be tripped up, An ulterior motive, A hidden agenda, Sometimes things are just as they are, At face value. And sometimes not. The trick is to learn when and when not.
Sometimes I still hear the snap of the belt against my skin. It's why I still flinch when a stranger steps to close in proximity. My heart often rises in a flight of birds. Just trying to escape the cold rush of December. It flutters trying to keep up with registering between fight or flight. My feet often start running before I. Often mistaking a pen dropping for a bomb. Regardless I am gone before I ever arrive anywhere. Half checked into a place I can never just leave. My milestones are the intermittent fasting between therapy sessions. We often talk of the stuff we carry; but leave the pages blank on the things we must live with.