Monday, March 2, 2015

Untitled (the pain is the worst at night)

He waited.

He waited for the day that he wouldn't get into trouble -
not realizing that it didn't matter if he waited
a few days longer so that if he happened to get caught,
he wouldn't be placed on a sex offender registry -
I would always be too afraid to say anything
and you can't get into trouble if nobody rats you out.

I didn't rat him out.
It didn't matter that my life became twisted,
dark and secret and filled with shame
because he had waited for my 18th birthday
to bestow upon me the so called gift that he
should have known was wrong because he felt the need
to wait.

Waiting is a sign of guilt.
He was unsure.
It was the others that pushed him to do that thing
which they joked about for weeks leading up to that moment -
that moment at that party that was supposed to be for me,
but I wasn't drinking.

He was.

They say that alcohol will knock down the walls
that keep guilt and shame in place -
I learned that to be true all too quickly,
as he had just enough to get a small buzz and we were talking
alone -
my biggest mistake.

Never be alone,
never let yourself be found screaming on the floor
with a barely buzzed hot dude on top of you,
fumbling at the clasp on your belt and slipping his hand
into places where it should not be -

The door opened.

I ran.

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