russian roulette

This poem contains mention of implied sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised.

 

I do not want to talk about it.

It makes me sad.

 

But I need to,

Because holding everything inside is unhealthy.

 

But then when you ask me if I am okay --

I do not want to be dishonest with myself.

 

I want to say no.

I want to say I need help.

 

But I do not want to be a burden.

No...

I do not want to be Your burden.

 

I would hate to tell you that I cry myself to sleep most nights,

Afraid of what I would wake up to in the middle of the night.

 

Is he going to be faceless tonight?

Or will he be someone I know?

 

Who is going to hurt me so deeply this time?

 

It is a game of Russian Roulette, featuring possible offenders --

Except I am always the one on the other side of the gun.

 

I am the one violated in my sleep.

 

I can feel the weight on top of my body,

Pushing me down,

Forcing me to stay still.

 

I can hear myself screaming

“NO!” 

“PLEASE!” 

“STOP!”

But no sound ever truly escapes my lips.

 

Waking up is no better.

 

I still feel the pressure.

I still feel the pain.

My body still shakes in fear.

 

Like a ghost,

It haunts me.

 

Stop haunting me.

 

Release me from the trauma in my slumber.

Let me enjoy some quiet days.

 

Can I snuggle close without looking over my shoulder?

 

Let me rest.