I chose not to see,
the thoughts that ran through my mind-
dark and primitive
as you yelled and hooted
I chose not to hear,
the words you used to describe me-
slut, whore, a bitch easy to score.
I chose not to think,
about the times you slipped your hand into my blouse-
hungry and lustful
wanting for more.
I chose not to taste,
blood that oozed from my lips-
warm and fresh-
results of your unfiltered thoughts.
I chose not to smell,
your intoxicated breath-
it made me cry,
Shuffling you crash into the bedroom,
Kissing the scars on my lips
Touching the bruises on my hip
But I choose to stare at the pale walls
The frigid tiles
The heavy door locked from outside
Clad in white gown
Inert and frantic,
I continued talking to you in my head.