My Story

He told me I was “pretty” as he brushed my bangs back.

He told me I should be “his” as he wrapped his arm around me tightly.

 

Cute, right?

 

But what you don’t know is: he is 10 years older than me.

But what you don’t know is: he didn’t just “hug” me. . .

 

. . . he touched me.

 

He made comments about what he would do.

Of what we should do.

 

You know what I wore?

I wore an XL purple polo shirt that had our work logo that hit mid-thigh.

I wore black pants with my hair up high in a ponytail,

My acne overreacting, and me, tensing up whenever he laughed.

 

You know what my dad said:

“You should have said ‘stop’.”

“You should have said ‘no’.”

 

But you know what?

As he asked me to be “his”, I said ‘no’.

As he made sexual comments and jokes,

I told him to ‘stop’ because I didn’t feel comfortable.

 

And you know what?

He continued.

 

You know what one of my sisters said?

She replied saying: “I’m overreacting”.

 

Tell me again that I am overreacting when

I can’t work properly because every time he

Gets close, I coil in fear at the fact

He could do anything at any time with

People thinking I am okay with it.

 

Tell me again that I am overreacting when

At night I can’t sleep because I feel so disgusted

Because he touched me.

 

Don’t tell me it’s “nothing” when I cry day and night

With panic attacks coursing through my body,

Trying to forget the feeling of arms wrapped around my

Body and hands laid upon my thigh.

 

Tell me this is all just a bad dream, because

A dream isn’t reality and  it’s something I don’t have

To live with.

 

But I do.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741