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.


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




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.