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deepundergroundpoetry.com

it always rains in June

 
Itís been fifteen years  
but I can still remember my blood
on your bedsheets
 
I drive past the street  
you used to live on  
but it no longer  
gives me panic attacks
or reminds me of you  
most days I donít think  
of you at all  
 
They knocked down the old church  
building where we met  
where I sought solace from a home  
that didnít really want me  
but didnít want the world  
to have me either  
 
You were cool, older  
mysterious  
you acted the gentleman  
when you asked my father  
if we could date  
Iíll never know why he said yes
or why my parents broke the pattern  
of overprotectiveness  
 
Because I couldnít read the signs  
when you guilted me into losing my clothes  
my blood on your hands  
on your cock  
on my clothes after I miscarried  
with no one there to help me  
pick up the broken pieces of myself  
that my family pretended werenít broken  
because rape is just a thing that happens
 
Itís been fifteen years  
but I can still remember my blood
on your bedsheets
 
© Indie Adams 2016
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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