His name on my lips
His words echo in my head
His touch so gentle yet hurts every part he traces
I’m NOT his
I wonder if its the thrill of touching what is not yours that keeps him going?
I push, I beg, growing tired of fighting back
I’m close to tears but it seems to make him want to hurt me more
By what decree you took it on you to claim me as your own?
An un-consented love.
I hunger for a different life
One with consent
Without desire or contempt.
One night has turned my entire life into a continuous search of trying to find myself.