Blame it on my ADD

Fractured. That’s how my memories are of you.

The feel of a cold wall against the curve of my back, my breath against your skin.

I wish.

I close my eyes slowly, an affront to violence you bestow, a gift to the sadism you lavish onto me.

I dream.

My fingers clench into cheap bedsheets, a whimper, a breath, a whispered please.

I beg.

I struggle, I fight against what I want, regardless of my want for it. It’s better when it’s forced.

I refuse.

I lose my breath, your hand around my throat, fingers pressed into my neck.

But, Now, I can breathe.

Whispers in a Crowded Room