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.