What I Haven't Told You
I can still feel his breath
on the back of my neck
just as humid, unwanted,
as it was
on yours.
The look in his starving eyes
glazed over
with feral lust,
fingers gripping
your hips
leaving bruises
shaped like his desire.
When I pulled on my cleats
and brought out my aluminum bat
and threatened to send
his balls
into the outfield
if he came at me one more time,
I never realized he’d turn to you.
Now, when I walk past that office,
just off the corner
of the choir room,
where he took you
apart
piece by piece,
I can feel the hastiness
in his fingers
as he tears your panties
in his eagerness
to satisfy himself.
I should have
said something,
but I didn’t
and now
we are here.