Victim and Perpetrator
So I got really drunk,
So I felt you up.
So I felt your gentle hand move mine away.
So I slept a while.
So I awoke, panicked.
So I tried to leave.
And nobody let me.
So there were sirens down the street.
So I worried.
So you calmed me.
So I apologized again
So you consoled me,
So you said things would be better in the morning.
So you said we’d do homework together
And bum out and eat together.
So I wanted to cry.
So I wanted to know where everybody goes.
Where is my dad?
Where is my aunt?
Where am I right now?
Where will I be going?
How did all of these things flow so easily through my rocking brain?
And you were kissing him and he was kissing you all over and I was watching it happen.
I had to leave. I had to get out of that house. I wanted to sleep in my bed and I didn’t want you to do what you did.
So I left.
I’m glad I did, even though I sat in the shower and tore at my legs and wrote myself a lovely poignant, drunk hate note.
That night I was a victim and a perpetrator.