Is This What Love Is
Those soft tendrils of skin grazing my being
Taking in my form whole
Accepting me as I was
Using me as I was
When did love turn to deceit and lies
When did my body turn into a medium of use
I'm nothing but my body, my parts, my abilities
That's all you ever wanted from me, wasn't it?
You felt me, but you didn't see me.
Now I lay in bed every night
Feeling the pound of you inside and out
A rhythmic motion, nonconsensual, debilitating
I'm frozen in time, pinned to a bed with no escape
My bed, your bed, Lake Arrowhead
It's all the same, as my no's and pleads fall apart
My consent never mattered, did it?
Coercion is a funny thing
Gaslighting of the self
"Is this what love is?" my 16 year old self asks.
"No, kiddo, not even close" my current self replies.
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