I consistently wonder
Who I would be,
If he never touched me
If he never forced his fingers
Down my throat
Locked his sweaty palm
Around my neck
And probed my body with his *****

There have been so many showers
Struggling to wash away
The perfect details of that night.
The massive weight of his stomach
Pinning me against the frame of the cot,
The shock of how invasive
******* could be,
The moist expression of orange juice and *****
Whispering,
“This feels like a dream.”
The immense fear.

I wept into my friend’s arms the next day.
“That’s the ****** part about being a woman.”
Was all she had to say.

I did not tell anyone else
For years.
I watched, as if in a glass cage;
The echoes of my people being engrained into me

"You wanted it.
     You just regretted having ***.
         You are just searching for attention.
             You weren’t actually *****."

I witnessed women accept the blame
Of something that was done to them.
I did not want to hear the verification
That I was the one at fault.

I forgot that
I had value as a person.
I forgot that
I was more than just a body.
I forgot myself.

I remember afternoons
Cradled against my father’s shot gun
Never knowing what was pulling me away
From pulling the trigger.


Change seemed to swell slowly
An unnoticeable growth
Until it had built enough
To crash me into the blunt realization:
It was not my fault.

It was not my fault
That I was sexually assaulted
By a twenty-two-year-old man
When I was sixteen.
It was his fault.
It was Max’s fault.

I still wonder who I would be,
If no one woke me up that night.
If his girlfriend had stayed.
If his friend,
Sleeping ten feet away,
Had intervened.

But now,
I can look at myself and feel strength.
The strength that pulled me away from death.
The strength to face my vulnerability.
The strength to move forward.
The strength to love.
The strength to be happy.

He says he loves me
He says that my smile glows of hope
And laughter
And wisdom
He says that I have this glow in me
That radiates out
Embracing life
He says I'm enough

But he only sees my reflection
And if he tried to skip a stone
He would see the perfection
Transform
Create shapes not welcome
Let him peak
At the murky bottom
Filled with treasure and trash
All covered in slime

My smile,
Is crooked
Has yellow spots and cavities
And the only thing that it beams
Is the breathe of my last catastrophe.

He calls me wise.
Only because he has never witnessed
The mistakes I step into,
The mistakes I give one more chance,
The mistakes that haunt in every corner-
Even the corner of my smile

He says he looks me in the eyes and sees hope.
I wonder where.
For when I glance at them
There is only emptiness,
And despair,

And the only thing I radiate
Is a warning
Do not tread that path
To the one lake
With the pretty reflection
It is just a mask
And though you may love a beautiful mask
A mask is not enough

But he says a mask can't mask everything
A mask can't mask
How I look up
When I'm on the brink of tears
As if the sun will wipe away my worries
A mask can't mask
How when a hand is outstretched
My whole being is clasped around it
A mask can't mask
That light that shines out of you.
Because,
Darling,
That light is too bright,
For even all of your self doubt,
Worries,
And the world,
To burn it out.

And a mask can't mask
And a skipping stone won't transform
That I love you
And because of him
I think
I can love me too.

First period is always the worst.
After hours of perfect, statuesque silence
I am poked, prodded, abused
Why is he always so angry
So hateful
His fingers claw  at me
His feet collide into my legs
And sometimes,
He loses his temper all together
And in a furious rage
He hurtles me against the wall
As if destroying a mere chair
Will solve all problems
Finally he leaves as second period begins
And I am filled with blandness
A person trying to blend
Never lifting a finger or muttering a word
It suffocates me with its nothingness
I force myself to get lost in time
But it always seems like eternity
It's not at all like when she sits in me
Sixth hour is always the best
She comes in with a soft step
Quietly settling herself in
She seems solemn most days
As if filled with disappointment
I wish I could embrace her
Let her know she is loved
But I can't
No chair can
It's a shame,
Next year, she'll be gone
And all be left with pokes, prods, and unhappiness.
I am just a chair after all.

There was something about her
That made memories linger
But I remember her in bits
How she fuddled with her fingers
And how a glance from her
Was like recieving a hug in an envelope
There was a sparkle in her eyes
Just a bit hope

She had a sly smirk
Whenever she schemed
She found happiness where ever it lurked
Even in the saddest dreams
She saw how every detail is perfect
Or so it seemed

She was a complete mess
And justified it
When she confessed
That chaos is beauty
But lacked to see her own loveliness

Her image was disproportionate
She couldn't even fathom
That the way her way of life
Had so much value and passion
It created an effect of inspiration
To any one she spoke

And she couldn't believe
How much she meant to me
I guess she just didn't know
That there was something about her
That made her glow.

I live in a strange world I call my own
My subconscious artist fills in my soul
Life is different, but it’s what I've known

She creates smiles on faces and their demons too
A contradicting realm that makes me whole
I live in a strange world I call my own

Her puppets clash and collide right on cue
Casting herself as the commanding role
Life is different, but it’s what I've known

If only my subconscious and I knew
That painting this life costs an awful toll
I live in a strange world I call my own

The picture I see makes my true rays few
I become nothing more than what I stole
Life is different, but it’s what I've known

I crave to turn this canvas blank and new
And fly away forever, hope would fix my soul
I live in a strange world I call my own
Life is a different, but it’s what I've known.

Change always startles me
It seems to always lurk
In secret corners of life
You'll only notice it
If you search
If you abruptly turn around
And catch the reflection of your past
Noticing all the new smudges
And the clutter in the background
Each memory taking up more space
I remember when it was vacant.
Just blank
Slowly filled as life progressed
Trading some items,
Hiding others
Each tweaking at your soul
Making the reflection you see
The reflection that startles me.

It was one of those days
Where even the sun seemed dim
Suffocating air
Filled the deafening silence
Hideous beauty
Covered faceless emotions
As echoing whispers forcefully escaped
And a truth was found hidden in a lie
It was a line of hateful love
That created the destruction
Of a blessed sinner
Who was filled with cruel innocence
Unaware of the silent melodies
Of dying life
Swirling still inside her
But since he was born dead
Every day was one of those days
Where even the sun seemed dim