White Satin Sheets
A poem about being a victim of rape, something I'm vocal
in preventing as well as being.
White satin sheets covered
in red stained blood.
An adult lying helplessly,
crying like a child from within.
Staring up the wall,
petrified like a stone
stuck in a crevice.
Waiting for the crushing
tearing
and pounding
to cease.
Feeling hands glide all over her
as she digs her hands into the
white satin sheets,
and weeps
in silence.
Tears slide down her cheeks
like a heavy
pouring
rain.
You can hear the tears
hit the
white satin sheets
with a loud thud.
Then at once she feels the tension
and feels the hardness
of the body on top of her,
and the heavy breathing of an
animal that has taken
her innocence, privacy, excitement
lust, wonder,
and the ability
to express herself.
For what reason, lies unknown.
Theres no answer and no love left.
Gone forever like a snowflake
that softly touches the ground
to evaporate.
Later to awaken
with a guilty feeling
of expressing herself
too openly.
Hoping it was a dream.
Then realizing,
the blood on
the white satin sheets,
and crying like the child
that used to be.