His hands are large,
Warm,
Calloused,
Scratchy.

They caress my body,
My back,
My sides,
My legs.

He waits 'til we're alone,
For the dark,
For the silence,
For the solitude.

He presses his body against mine,
Firm,
Stiff,
Solid.

He keeps me close,
Warm,
Enclosed,
Embraced.

When he touches me I feel things,
Strange,
Unsettled,
Odd.

When he touches me,
I hate it,
I loathe it,
I want it to stop.

When he touches me,
I feel revolting,
I feel disgusting,
I feel gross.

But I keep my mouth closed,
Silent,
Sewn,
Shut.

I say nothing, keeping it inside.
Burning,
Hurting,
Churning.

I step silent because I've been told,
It's my fault,
I'm in the wrong,
I need to change.

My skin crawls,
My eyes leak,
My stomach knots.

But only,
When he touches me.