Abuse

 

I was sexually assaulted.

And for so long I kept that locked inside.

 

The man of God would

talk of higher powers

and divine worlds

beyond our existence,

before pouring drink after drink

down my neck. Torpedoed hope in a bottle.

 

I was young, naive - friendships had

been hard for me.

I was in the first woes of lost love,

casting shadows on the concrete

in the city that glows golden.

Trying to find myself... I felt so lost.

But I woke up with him making moves on me,

and I froze. Until I found strength within

to kick free...

 

And then I blamed myself again and again.

I even apologised -

I wasn't that way inclined.

I apologised.

I apologised

and kept contact for years.

 

I felt dirty.

I felt shame.

I felt to blame.

I had been drunk.

I must have led him on.

I must have done.

 

Until it dawned.

 

This was a man of the cloth,

and I was a young man

who was broken.

I should have been guided, protected.

But all I became was meat -

a meal to be digested.

I was groomed to stay silent.

To believe in something higher.

That by speaking, I’d ruin another.

Well, you ruined me, motherfucker.

 

And

I was sexually assaulted.

Groped, unconsentingly touched,

kissed, fucked by women -

and again, I froze.

For no one believes a man

when they speak of this.

So I sat and let it sit within -

a secret I never wanted,

but was given.

 

And I was abused,

and no one believed.

Or worse, they said it

must have been me.

I must have been to blame

for the gender

that was given to me.

 

So when I hear stories of abuse, I believe.

 

Because humanity can be cruel,

and I’d still always choose to believe

the good that can live in all.

I can't claim my story is the same as yours,

and I won't, because every story

is written in its own shadows.

But I can say I'll listen without judgement,

because we are all better than this.

And I'd still always feel safer

with a woman - than a man by my side.