Friday, August 23, 2013

He didnt rape me

This is not that poem.
I remember the room where he saw my head
at the end of the barrel. This is how it feels
to be seemingly powerless, to know life is in the hands
of a man's finger on a trigger and
crazy thoughts inside him walking a tightrope.

Haha I said so he'd have a way out,
if he wanted. (I was
walking through a blackwashed
room. Sensing. No one
could see my eyes
were peeled open moons. They couldnt have
been more open.)

No comments:

Post a Comment