It hurt.like an open wound, for days after
but you didn't seem to believe me
when I told you
it was my first time.
it's been years, suns and moons have come
and gone, thousands of them and yet
my hands clam up as i write this.
who did you think you were?
to take from me so ungratefully
with a cocky sneer that was every
bit as full of hatred as desire--
how did you dare to? how
did you waste me so unapologetically
not a thought for the flesh
that bled under your careless invasion--
what gave you the right? you arrived
on the shore of my no-man's-land
planted your flag in scorched earth and
played King oh-so-Mag-na-ni-mous
who told you that you could? share me
with yet another callous villain
fumbling through my dark shores
trying to find the center of
a maze that was not built for him, nor was it
there for you.
these questions come and go often,
in my mind, my nightmares,
my quaking-wrists when I am left alone with
one of your kind.
and yet the burning question--
one that is gone after I have stripped myself
bare, stared into every cavity in hopes
of finding what fuels this rage I feel, this shame--
the one question no one but I can answer
why did I let you?