Fear (sexual abuse trigger)

A Poem by beautifulblade

2.18.15

It's the moment my eyes shut
and I'm back in that room again --
shaking my head 'no'
but unable to make a sound.

It's the smell of musty green wallpaper
that feels like a jungle closing in around me,
a narrow hallway
leading to my own personal prison.

It's the haircut on the
typical graying male in his 50's,
silver waves combed over
to cover potential baldness.

It's the name whispered
through my nightmares
when I can't wake up,
dreams taking memories
further than I remember.

It's the residual feeling of callused hands
sliding across my skin,
searching for treasure
on private property.

It's the sound of that question,
repeating in my mind --
"Does this feel good?"
and being unable to make a sound.

It's focusing on the TV,
shaking my head 'no'
not letting him see my tears
and just waiting for it to end.

It's waking up,
and thinking I'm back on that waterbed
that fascinated me so much,
but amplified his every move.