written: june 19, 2020 (day 346)
they want proof;
they're insatiable in their demands.
but how can i give them something
i can't hold in my hands?here's the proof i have:
i can show you the bills for therapy sessions
to handle the newfound ptsd
and the sinking depression.the crumbled up tissues
on every available surface.
the nightmares i can't escape
and the lingering thought that i deserved it.i wrote down the story
and saved it to drafts.
i mourned the loss
of the innocence i had.the proof is my word
but that's not enough
because he's such a nice boy
and he's still so young!he has a future planned out;
why would i ruin it?
he's going to college;
why should i go through with it?(but they never point out
that i have nothing to gain
by saying i was raped
and then saying his name.the only benefit i have
to telling the story
is to save another girl;
for me, there is no glory.)

YOU ARE READING
it hurts until it doesn't
Poetrya collection of poetry the start of the story: 7•09•2019 published 7•09•2020 trigger warning: rape