I’m not quite ready to tell my story, but have started writing a few poems, which are a little easier to share:
He came out. On top.
I woke with a thud. And him on top of me.
Thrusting fervently. At my limp body.
Red shirt ripped open. Jeans on the floor.
Puke down my side. A faraway closed door.
The sweat from his stench. Sticks to my confusion.
I close my eyes n try to fight. Hoping it’s a delusion.
Startled, he pushes me down. Trying to finish.
Before my female weakness overpowers his conscience.
I win, he retreats.
But really, he won.