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I was 16

I had so many dreams.

Because I never thought I’d make it past 14.

I reconnect with an old friend.

We kiss at a party and oh he’s so kind,

he’s just like the man I was hoping I’d find.


the only texts I receive are late at night.

He’s older and cool and he’s sweet with his words,

as he uses his hands to map out my curves.

And I like it.

It’s a month later and he’s standing in my kitchen,

and my eyes are screaming out for him to just listen.

I gave him it before so he thinks that I owe him,

as he whispers in my ear he just wants me to show him,

how much I care.

And he was exactly what I wanted and used to give me joy.

So why do I feel like a child’s discarded toy?

He whispers sweet nothings as his fingers go down.

I’m frozen.

How could you do this to me?

Now I’m sitting in my room,

crying alone.

How the fuck could you do this to me in my own home?

You don’t get to touch me as if I’m your own,

my body is mine.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry I don’t want to hear.

Every time your name is spoken all that is present is fear.

And I see my tears as they drip onto my phone.

How the fuck could you do this to me in my own home?

I’m supposed to feel safe,

not full of rage.

But now every day feels like I’m trapped in a cage.

Like all my hopes and dreams are just out the door,

but I can’t peel my body off the bathroom floor.

I listen to a poem that feels like my own.

It’s from a powerful woman I hope to be like when I’m grown.

And as she leans into the mic my soul is filled with her scream,

“What do you mean this happened to me?”

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