i was thirteen.
young. unsure. scared.
you took my youth
and crushed it
in your large, colossus hands.

how was i to know
what men could
and could not
do to me
i was thirteen.

i gave you my trust. my acceptance.
i laughed at your jokes
you laughed at mine
we became friends
i was thirteen.

you told me it was normal
you told me you loved me
i told you no.
i told you stop.
i was thirteen.

i ran so fast
my lungs, burning
i wanted to shout
you told me not to.
i trusted you
i was thirteen.

maybe i should have known
maybe i would have gotten it
actually, scratch that. i shouldn’t have gotten it.
i was thirteen.

when i finally told the police
i told them parts.
i didn’t tell them you touched me there
or there
or there
or there
or there
or there
(you did).

i was thirteen.
i was protecting you.
after everything
i still believed
you were better.
i trusted you. i was ashamed i wasn’t strong enough to fight back.

i was thirteen.