They’re surprised when we say we’re fine,
They’re surprised when we don’t break down at a simple gaze.
They’re surprised when a tiny touch of an arm sends us down,
Drowning,
Flying,
Failing.
They don’t know how to react when we say the words,
They hug us and say we aren’t alone,
That us women stick together.
But how can we stick together if you haven’t seen the pain?
Heard the words,
Felt the memories?
Do you want to hold hands and share cheeks?
Pass a few words and then act like we don’t exist?
Like you forgot the special moment when we said the words.
They don’t understand how we feel the memories when we get undressed,
Take a shower,
Or even brush our teeth in the morning.
They don’t know how a word or sound or the slightest gesture makes us retrogress.
How when falling asleep,
Or reading a book,
Or watching a movie,
Triggers The Event.
The Event.
The Happen.
The Thing.
The Hurt.
Rape
Known all around the world,
Vergewaltigen, voldtage, éigniú.
All the same word,
All the same definition.
Different stories,
Words,
Adjectives.
They don’t see us in our vulnerable moments.
They push it away,
It isn’t innocent.
Innocent
Innocence.
A word we don’t put in the same sentence as our name.
Forbidden,
From us.
Not allowed,
Not a feeling.
They don’t see us tremble when someone has the same laugh
Or voice
Or body type,
Or say the same words as They did.
They don’t know what it feels like to be able to feel the words on your neck,
Hands on your back,
Dick pushed into you,
Feelings displaced everywhere.
A friend,
A stranger,
Family member,
Person.
They don’t understand why our eyes water at the slightest mention of abuse,
Of love,
Of hate,
Of caring.
Because we know, and are friends with these emotions.
We feel them everyday,
Towards ourselves,
Towards The Person.
The Person,
my Person.
Long dark hair triggers me,
Dark brown eyes trigger me,
“I love you” triggers me,
A caress of my face triggers me,
The holding of hands while walking triggers me,
Church triggers me,
Boyfriends trigger me,
Dicks trigger me.
Dicks,
Sacred,
Secret,
Kept hidden
Are suppose.
Dicks,
Open,
Known,
Seen,
Are what is,
What was.
They don’t understand what it feels like to have a trusted person to rip you,
Of life,
Of happiness,
Love,
Caring,
Innocence.
They don’t care,
They don’t know,
They don’t have
A Person.
my person.
A boyfriend,
Dark long hair,
Dark brown eyes,
Lips are fuller than a heart itself,
A boyish laugh
And a soft voice.
Soft voice.
Uses the soft voice when he does The Thing.
They don’t understand the cuts on the inside,
The pain on the outside,
But the wounds left in our hearts.
They don’t care how they see themselves.
Big,
Innocent,
Happy,
Consent.
That’s what they took.
Small,
Week,
Sad,
No longer being able to say no,
That’s what they left.
For us,
To deal.
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