When a boy defies your body, touching the parts you deem as sacred , even when you say no
leaves a permanent ink engraved between your inner thighs and your fingertips of his name. And it never really goes away, not if you don't talk about it, but when your shit at talking you write. Not to anyone necessarily, but the words you would've said to someone who cared. Because no one really cares, not unless your beautiful or dead.
And the trauma installs itself in my mind whenever his name is mentioned or his face is seen because there's nothing left within me but blame and self loathing because he took the beauty and the innocence inside me and turned it to utter misery.
And it gets harder to think why I should've left or fought back. But when your arms are pinned down there's not much you can do.
Some days I still feel his tongue gliding across my neck, and I feel sick when anyone talks about sex or anything related to it.
So is me staying chaste until I 'marry' an excuse so I can avoid telling people I'm a broken branch that does not want to be fixed because of the events that have taken place in my life?
My whole life feels like a Cinderella without a shoe, Snow white without dwarfs, an incomplete story that keeps going on and on and on like a broken record player.
