The Plucked Rose

The arousal between my legs is faint ,

I smell his sweat in which it has begun to taint .

My integrity diminishes

with the thrust of his hips ,

the invasivity of my mind,

impregnates me with thoughts of my life on the line.

The friction of flesh melting together ,

is not one of romance ,

I wish his stance ,

was not to corrupt and manipulate,

he is a cold heart.

He throbs hard inside of me ,

like a ravaged animal I scream,

I wish to wake up from the dream,

but Iam afraid,

it ain't a dream.

I struggle to fight him off ,

so he would leave me alone,

But in vain,

He holds me down,

my body is weak,

I cry.

Day in day out,

I can still feel his breath ,

on the back of my neck,

just as humid,

unwanted as it was,

as the look of his starving eyes,

glazes over with feral lust,

fingers gripping my hips,

leaving bruises shaped like his desire.

I can feel the hastiness in his fingers,

as he rips my clothes off,

in his eagerness to satisfy himself.

It pains my heart,

it shutters it ,

It leaves me in tears,

I feel nostalgic,

every time I remember the painful ordeal.

We think of roses as red,

Healthily growing in their flower beds,

If I was a rose,

you picked me clean at the stem,

Now I can no longer grow,

Iam just caved in.

My petals float on the floor,

he a monster trapped me in this horror,

I cry aloud but he trimmed all of my cries out.

Nothing I could do,

Helps me escape the cruelty ,

His actions stuck to me like glue,

Iam traumatized.

As the monster walks freely,

Where is my justice,

Who will answer my innocent cries,

As I sing to all the blues.