Writing

My Peace

In my dark moment, his touch brings me peace.

During one of my lowest moments, his voice brings me peace.

In the midst of feeling less than, his presence brings me peace.

With the thought of feeling ashamed, it is him who brings me peace.

During this storm, as I don’t feel like myself, you still bring me peace.

**I bring my own peace but he keeps me at peace. He’s done this from the very beginning and still continues to.**

STOP

He said let’s talk,

she entered the room.

He touched her,

she said STOP.

She blocked him from kissing her,

as she tried blocking him from

touching her.

The more she said STOP,

the more aggressive he got.

STOP.

PLEASE. STOP.

Those words went unheard.

She fell to her knees,

hoping he’d STOP.

He would unzip,

she’d zip as she still pleaded,

asking him to,

STOP.

He pushed her to the bed,

she curled into a ball,

hoping,

he’d STOP as she

continued asking him to STOP.

He unbuckled her belt as she

tried to block him.

He overpowered her.

Both pulling and tugging at her

underwear as her cries for him

to STOP still,

went unheard.

She STOPPED hoping that he’d STOP.

He didn’t.

She fell to the floor,

screaming out his

name, asking him to STOP.

He then began to say,

look at me, look at me!

How could she as she managed

to fix her clothes.

I’m sorry I’m sorry,

I’m not going to rape you,

he said after he STOPPED.