Desire Reverie

You know what hurts the most?

It wasn’t when you complimented my smile. Just a simple invasion of privacy, one I thought I must simply deal with not to cause a scene.

It wasn’t when you laid a finger upon me, my heartbeat quickening and trying to find any escape from the possibilities entering my mind.

It wasn’t when it got worse. When you were starting to scare me. When I made my discomfort known but you refused to listen.

It wasn’t the disgusting sensations of my body turning against me, temperature increasing while being covered with buckets of sweat.

It wasn’t the pain I had to deal with, the intense stabbing in my abdomen penetrating my insides, going in and out at a rapidly increasing pace.

It was when it was over. When I was a discarded toy you didn’t want to play with anymore. When you left the room and closed the door, leaving me crying on the bedroom floor.

And I never could have figured out why. I hate it, every single moment. Yet when you stopped I couldn’t bear it.

It was a contradiction I couldn’t make sense of. Was I a perverted soul who enjoyed being violated?

No. I was a child who wanted to be loved.