Perhaps I am not deserving of pity
When my own actions
Have been so harsh...
But without purpose,
Without intention.
All the same,
The memory of his body,
So vast in my sight
Pressing down like concrete,
Persisting, unrelenting…
Is hard to shake.
His chest solid and broad
I remember the hairs and freckles
On his arms
As he pinned me down,
Without care
Without consideration -
Wrecking me.
I’m glad now,
That I no longer have to slumber
In that bed
And address the ugly feeling
Which creeps up my throat,
Deriding me...
That I got what I deserved.