I didn’t know I was raped,

Until I knew I was raped.

 

Quite the contradiction, right?

He’s laughing at the irony, I’m sure.

 

He was the second person to ever “have” me,

Without my permission of course.

 

I woke up the next morning, 

Cloaked in shame and faint smells of whiskey.

 

My soft skin felt

Jagged and bruised.

 

A body laid next to me,

As my soul left mine.

 

A familiar face, but

Unfamiliar occurrence.

 

He was a kind friend 

Always offering to be there for me

 

A shoulder to cry on when my boyfriend left,

My ride home from a dizzy night out.

 

I mistook his kindness,

For his eagerness.

 

I mistook his heart,

For his hunger.

 

He tells me that

He helped me up my stairs

 

He helped me out of my clothes,

And into my bed, too gone for my own good

 

He helped himself,

To my distant mind

 

He helped himself

To my flimsy, whiskey-ed up body

 

He helped himself

To a girl who trusted him.

 

My aggressiveness the next morning

Was a rude awakening for him.

 

What an ugly ending

To a “beautiful night”

 

That’s what he told me,

As I attempted to crawl out of my own skin.

 

His entitled body leaned closer,

He wanted to help himself, again.

 

His kiss goodbye,

Was greeted with the door.

 

Hours, days,

Weeks, months

 

I was told lies,

From him, myself and society.

 

I led him on.

 

It was my fault.

 

I had too much to drink.

 

I brought him home.

 

What did I expect to happen?

 

He was my friend.

 

I knew him.

 

It doesn’t count.

 

I didn’t know I was raped,

Until I knew I was raped.

 

I didn’t know I was raped,

Until I knew I didn’t say yes.

 

I didn’t know I was raped,

Until I knew I didn’t ask for it.

 

I didn’t know I was raped,

Until I knew he had no right.

 

I didn’t know betrayal,

Until I knew I was raped.

 

They don’t know that I was raped,

And they never will.