When It Feels.

Sorry if you understand what it feels like.

Days, weeks, years ago by, but I don't feel anything.

That day stopped time for me. The day you touched me, the day you hurt me. Feelings of hands come on me and never go away, your hand wrapped around my neck, touching lightly, saying you won't hurt me. Your hands gripping my wrists, tightly, hurtfully, bruisingly. Kisses down my neck, bite, lick, bite, lick. Your other hand reaches up, up, up. Under my shirt, your hand reached, you reached to my left and under, squeezed, squeezed, squeezed.

I push away, you laugh, pushing me back, push, push, push. I can't move, I try, try, try. Your hands creep lower, lower, and stop...Up my thigh, you rub there before starting to go in my shorts, until..."Found you!" The little giggles came, hope came in my face as he pulled away. The darkness hid what he did, so forever, I fall quiet.

She asked with so much care if I was okay, for she did not know what happened that day...I told her, I told her about his hands, what he did. She cried for me, as I cried for her. My parents don't know; I keep it in. They don't see what he seen, last summer in June.