The Stages of Heartbreak and Grief of Who I Once Was

fifty: the trauma before (TW)

i think i hate you
simply because at one point in time
i never did
despite the fact that you were entitled
entitled to opinions
on the shape of my body
and which curves were good
and which were bad
if my stomach was too large that day
or if my thighs seemed to dip more in that skirt
you were entitled to thoughts on my emotions
and the way i reacted
"stop crying"
"you're so fucking dramatic"
"god i don't know why you care"
each answer present to something as small
as one single tear falling down my face
it never mattered how quick i could wipe it
or try to turn my face away from yours
hoping that maybe that tear could make it out
and i wouldn't have to face your judgment
but that never mattered
any ounce of emotion
was a war crime
i deserved to be locked away from society
because the tears of a woman were a danger to society

you were entitled to the bodies and temples of women
each strategically placed to meet your eye
up and down
you watched them
you watched as their boobs slightly bounced with each step
and as they swayed their hips back and forth
they were objects for you to use
you had free reign
because women were created by god for you

you were entitled to my body
"i am a woman
your woman
please use me
please abuse me
please fuck me"
words that never left my mouth
but the slightly upturned lip of mine screamed it to you
to you a smirk was an invitation
you searched on to details
manipulating blinks and the tapping of fingernails
to the desire to be used
your hands touched the deep crevasses of mine
lightly caressing down the side of my waist to my ass
your touches soft
but your eyes hard
i never really wanted it
i just knew you wanted it
you wanted to touch me
and in my head
maybe this could be how
how you could pick me over the women you felt had been perfectly crafted to fit your every need and desire.
but it never was

i think i hate you now because you were entitled to the love of everyone else but me