The Time I Saw A Man Who Raped Me


Walking home

It’s been a long day and it’s cold

Huge bus flashing by in the window reflection

Street corner faces and bakery smells

And BOOM there on the other side of a thin sheet of glass

Real, not an apparition

Never was

He was never not real

When he tore my –


I can barely remember anything.

Too red wine too much

Wine never made me feel like this

I remember I told him I liked him

Shortly before

Why did I say it

What a lie

What a terrible lie that was gonna be

But I wasn’t myself

Not speaking for myself

Not speaking


Just a few faint shreds of this, mercifully? buried


Even when I’m pouring words like now it’s not half

Kinda like a mental limp

And a kind of grim quiet may have descended on my mind

There was just so much

Carrying on like nothing like nobody like never

Did I respond at all

I don’t know

Maybe I can play dead so convincingly I persuade myself

Is that how you feel powerful?

Reduce someone to a body, a corpse?

How can I call you ‘sir’ when I’m not even there?

I’d call you the things you deserve to be called

But it’s not worth the bitter taste on my tongue

When I realize I lack the words after all


But you didn’t win, you must sense that to be this way

On the other side of your transparent protection

Oblivious to the burning eyes outside

You just sit, hateful and hated, perhaps

A creature I would erase


If I had the button, the trigger, the bolt

If I sat on a throne

And you were a fly

And I’d suffered your bite


But your day will come,

Already has, in a way

What a sad sight you are

Though not for my eyes

Because once again you’re gone

And I live

With little memory

But too much fire

raining on you and yours

I’ll be a phoenix

Where you left ashes

And my steps are sure

I’m on my way home


6 comments on “The Time I Saw A Man Who Raped Me

  1. My god. I’ve only just seen this. So moving, so harrowing, so *real*. Solidarity, sister xx

  2. I nodded along with some of the words, could feel it build and felt the sickness in my stomach. The frozen disbelief. The emptiness. Tears welled up. But you finished your thoughts just like I finish mine, Rising up, undefeated. Now my big fat tears are happy ones, familiar ones. Thank you for what you share. It is a kind of connection and understanding that helps me personally leave the ashes behind xx

    • Thank you so much for your comment. Writing this poem gave me strength when I needed it and it continues to fuel me that I see the power of words demonstrated in these ways. Much love xxx

  3. Would you consider giving me permission to reblog it? You can have a look and see whether you think my blog is appropriate, if it feels safe to do so.

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