I’m not going to call it rape
because that’s too violent a word for what was relatively quiet outside
because rape is the wrong word
because if you’re with someone and both of you know that you don’t want it
but it happens
surely you can’t both claim ignorance.
I’ve no issue with ‘out there’ but lack of connection in and out and on and in and on
5adayeveryday now later now promisenowifyoulovedme now
more if he could stuff it.
I kept pace I ran hard and fast until my lungs burned and I sweat purring for a while
but l life kicked in concoction of stress and medication slowly uneased stripped
Why? Why don’t you want it anymore? You used to. Don’t you love me?
Why why why why why why WHY…
I wish I got it, I don’t get any of it I used to… I definitely used to but then having said that
I got shit for not wanting to leave a party we’d been at for 5 minutes I got shit for not finding somewhere in the middle of the woods to ‘hide’ I got shit for not being where I was meant to be or who I was meant to be with
the dog beat unpredictably is the most loyal it wasn’t I wasn’t
got to a state where I’d just
let him get on with it
because somehow it was easier than the yelling and the crying the emotional vortex to just lie there and try to blank out the room spin but 9 times out of 10 I wasn’t there.
9 times out of 10 I wasn’t.
he admitted once he’d known… …and continued anyway… but then he pulled faces and grabbed and whined made a show of me
“what’s wrong?” “Nothing” “okay”
but funny how blood seeps through honeycomb funny how eventually my body decided for me what my head couldn’t and I couldn’t anymore hide it anymore
feel my skin shrivel up inside myself cold water thrown on a bitch in heat the echo
of snapping skin pushed rings of dry muscle apart as it tried desperately to cling to crawl up into my throat
I’d hide my face bite my tongue silence the mutters
please just finish please just finish please just finish
and then he’d yell and cry at that… though he’d never felt me anyway
and it’s funny how weak you become
how silent how unsure so…
so I’d beg unbecoming
literally beg him through tears to just ‘get on with it’
so the fighting would stop I want it to stop. and sometimes he would and sometimes he’d just grow bitter
I’m not worried about you thinking on these things…
I’m just afraid of my consequence if I’m ready to be loved
if I want to be
because love isn’t blind
but it could blind me into a stupor where I knew what I believed for three minutes
and I could say I loved a man who didn’t understand me
into believing I knew myself
and I don’t know if that’s how it really happened or just how it felt..
because it reminds me how uncertain I am
because it took me getting so drunk I started screaming and punching walls
cutting myself open and praying I’d bleed out though I’d never found an artery to realise it was real..
because that’s how black and white I need things to be
because that’s how I function but things so rarely are
he never really knew what I wanted but neither did I
there was no sensitivity in it
where it shrouded into blurred cuts of meat broken toys…
and I don’t think either of us have learned
I wish I got it I don’t get any of it how
insecurity played more than fear how
a temper was more frightening than losing my own body
than losing him
how I let him
how it wasn’t really fear
how it wasn’t really rape because I never said no
but I never said yes either