russian roulette

This poem contains mention of implied sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised.

I do not want to talk about it.

It makes me sad.

But I need to,

Because holding everything inside is unhealthy.

But then when you ask me if I am okay —

I do not want to be dishonest with myself.

I want to say no.

I want to say I need help.

But I do not want to be a burden.

No…

I do not want to be Your burden.

I would hate to tell you that I cry myself to sleep most nights,

Afraid of what I would wake up to in the middle of the night.

Is he going to be faceless tonight?

Or will he be someone I know?

Who is going to hurt me so deeply this time?

It is a game of Russian Roulette, featuring possible offenders —

Except I am always the one on the other side of the gun.

I am the one violated in my sleep.

I can feel the weight on top of my body,

Pushing me down,

Forcing me to stay still.

I can hear myself screaming

“NO!” 

“PLEASE!” 

“STOP!”

But no sound ever truly escapes my lips.

Waking up is no better.

I still feel the pressure.

I still feel the pain.

My body still shakes in fear.

Like a ghost,

It haunts me.

Stop haunting me.

Release me from the trauma in my slumber.

Let me enjoy some quiet days.

Can I snuggle close without looking over my shoulder?

Let me rest.

• abuse
• cofc
• poem
• poet
• poetry
• recovery
• relationship
• Trauma