the fact is that I don't have dreams about you,
I have nightmares.
the fact is that I cannot hear that word,
without remembering it all.
the fact is that I can't even play with friends,
without remembering how you laughed.
the fact is that I finally could tell the truth after months of trying,
and people took it as mere dramatic stories.
the fact is that I am haunted by memories each moment of my day,
memories of your breath on my skin.
the fact is that I am full of fear and regret and self-blaming
and rage.
the fact is that I said no.
and the fact is,
you just laughed.
YOU ARE READING
a history of self-doubt
Poetryi'm just a kid trying to write poems to help myself rape tw// (other sensitive topics may be discussed, such as self-harm, depression, and suicide. specific warnings will be in the story tags as they appear.)
