Night

I was sober.
I was naive.
I pretended
it was okay.

You walked me back
to my room,
a gesture I was  
unfamiliar with.
I blushed under the
moonlit sky,
oh how I wanted  
to hold your hand.

I wanted to sleep,
but you would not allow.
I wanted you to leave,
but you forced your way in.
I obliged.

Glasses forgotten on
my desk, I couldn't
see a thing.
I left the door open,
remembering
what my parents
had taught me,
so many years ago.
It didn't stop you.

You pulled me onto my bed,
dragged me on top of you.
I laid, terrified on my bed,
while you found a condom.
Luck found one in my
drawer from a prank gift.
I thought we would sleep.
You had other plans.

Wrenching apart my legs
you removed my pants.
Almost blind, my face revealed 
the horror I felt inside.
You didn't care.
 
Bracing myself for what
was to come, I closed my eyes.
Maybe if I didn't see it,
it would go away;
you would go away.
Five minutes passed,
I was numb.

When you were finished,
you passed out next to me.
I moved to the floor
and silently cried
for what I had lost. 

I hid my pain,
thinking I deserved it.
I told them it was okay.
I told them it was
consensual.
Truthfully,
I still hadn't even  
had my first kiss.
I guess, I just wasn't
important enough.