Sweaty, grubby hands
clawing at my last
remaining shred
of innocence.
Fuzzy head. Blurry eyes
not seeing ahead,
alcoholic breath lingering.
Stubble chin leering closer in.
You talked of God,
yet made me think of death.
Did I ask to be here?
Is this what I wanted?
The thoughts stir within me
a sea of self-doubt, self-blame.
I must have made this happen
thought my alcohol fuelled brain.
Shades drop. shimmering/
A flashback to the night before,
seen in hazy imagery.
Small sips became torpedoed drinks.
Ships sinking. Relationship advice,
to lead me in.
Making me feel comfortable,
making me feel like one of the boys.
More drinks, downed in a single swig.
straws hanging to feed oxygen
to drowning lungs.
Capsizing the thoughts that remained.
More drinks. None that I bought.
An onslaught on my fragile brain,
more and more poured.
More and more the floor was wobbling
and my mind was throbbing
starting to soar.
I remember.
Prickly stubble lined lips.
I was here under false pretences.
I was here as a guest,
but your plans were of conquest.
My head, stressed,
from past abuses.
Being led down a path,
misled and messed up
somewhere long behind.
Where I was left with no self-respect.
You saw that
and used it to play
with my mind.
Abused the trust
I gave to you
made me question myself
and what I thought I knew.
Made my doubt all of the pathways
that had suddenly become askew.
I ask you.
Was it worth it?
Did making me feel small
make you feel like king of the world?
I never asked for it. I never consented.
You took advantage. Never once repented.
You talked of God.
You were a man of the cloth
but you walked with the devil
when you made that choice.
You knew I was vulnerable,
knew I was at the bottom of a downfall.
My head was scrawled
with messages of self-hate.
Letters written to myself
of neglect and self-pain.
So did you think?
At all?
Or was you brain kept
in that place so small?
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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