I’ve been raped.
I think?
He was gentle – not forceful.
Initially, we were two consenting adults. But there was a transition…
He asked before entry.
But I didn’t say yes
But I didn’t quite protest.
He proceeded: “Just relax, take a deep breath”
He pressed down on my back.
I felt the pressure in my chest.
“Wait, it hurts”
“Just a little…”
“It hurts.”
“I’m in.”
He grunted in pleasure.
My body would not move.
My voice had left me.
I lay there in silence questioning.
“Am I being raped?”
He finished and lay there
Gently caressing my thigh.
“Are you ok?” He asked.
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
I was numb.
We talked about the day ahead.
I laid there – staring into nothing.
I’m confused.
I’m sore.
I am disgusted with myself.
I am trying not to cry.
When he left he joked that I’d forget him.
I could only hope for so much.
The door closed.
I walked in my bathroom.
My reflection began to cry.
I tried to shower the feelings away.
I collapsed and again,
I wept.
I’ve been raped.
– Anonymous
The Pedestal Project regularly features artistic pieces submitted by our readers in our Pedestal Poetry series. If you are a Black woman and have any creative work that you’d like featured on the website, please send submissions to pedestalprojectorg@gmail.com.
