it is wrong

it is wrong
i am sick with what i do not say
sicker even than when pregnant
with that little boy you hate

i thought it was guilt over not being kind
no
it is guilt over not being square
not sharing my mind

i do not know how to
speak the vile in my stomach
you, sir, are a nightmare

i no longer fear intimacy
for i have the courage i need
to speak what i need

no, i fear your violence
your temper your cruelty
it is the just fear
of my intuition
warning me

no
i do not trust you now
you have proven yourself
ever untrustworthy
taking my hurt
to manipulate me
until i am the one
saying sorry
it is wrong

i say stop but you
do not stop
it is wrong

you want sex
without intimacy or risk
it is wrong

you want a doll
to please you
with no real heart of her own
it is wrong
you call for phone sex
but not for phone snuggles
it is wrong

you frighten me
and punish me
and don’t hesitate
to chastise me
it is wrong

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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