Me Too
CW (Content Warning): this prose poem may contain the following triggers - mention of violence, implied sexual assault, harassment
do they remember me?
do they recall my hesitation and subsequent capitulation when the excuses i made were brushed aside like pests that buzzed and annoyed but were easily crushed?
do they remember when they marked my skin in hues of red and purple and green and the way my muscles would clinch and cringe and my body would shudder away from their touch?
do they revel in the fear they instilled in my bones when they’d follow me home and hurl vicious words that sliced and slashed my core?
do they congratulate themselves
for the nights they broke me
for the feel of burning flesh between my thighs
for the way i froze when touched with cold chrome between my eyes
for how meek i made myself to survive
do they think of me at all?
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