The Silent Ones

#MeToo

I hear story's
About boys that are kind
And write love letters
And kiss your neck in the rain
And smile at you
When you aren't looking

I hear stories
About versions of reality
That lucky girls live
Where the sun shines softly
And the flowers in their garden
Wilt gradually
The way they are supposed to

I hang on to stories
Of sweet boys
Wiping the tears from my eyes
While I clean the blood
off my inner thighs
And drown in the memories
Of his hand
Smashing my face
Into the stained carpet
And nails clawing my collar bone

I fall asleep
To dreams of boys
With quite voices
And soft fingers
But I wake up
To the scars on my ribs
And panic attacks
In my head

I used to think
The stories were true
But all I know of romance
Is harsh blows
And muffled "stops"
So now I hold on
To blankets instead of dreams
And think of ways
to cover my shame

In hopes that some day

I can tell my father

With
out 
falling
a
p
a
r
t