Coward

I am too much of a coward to block him.

Was that okay?

Are we not friends anymore?

I hope you're okay, I saw your lonely post.

I am too much of a coward to lock him out, push him away from my cyber self. Instead, I sit here screaming, instantly locked back in that filthy studio, feeling his caress of my hair, his five fingered hold around my gasping neck, hearing my name moaned over and over as my body betrays me and makes noises with every thrust. Feeling the slime that I am left covered in when there is no toilet paper to clean myself before I drive away in hysteria, forcing myself to sing along to his songs because maybe then I will remember who he was supposed to be and not who he became. Burning in the shame of that interview afterwards, closing my eyes against the forensic flash, staring at teeth marks on my bicep because of course the one time I bruise is from him.

I am too pitiful to make him go away. You are supposed to label yourself a survivor. You are supposed to triumph over the trauma, ignore the PTSD, and piece yourself together again. Instead I am a victim, defined by the violence and trapped within those smudged walls, bare floors, and lines left by his drugs from the night before. I am the weak one, who is confined to their house because there might be another man lurking on any corner, behind every bush, waiting to do it again. Who drowns out the flashbacks with Christmas music but hears him cumming anyway. Who knows how filthy they are. Whose identity as a transgender person has taken a back seat to those touches of my chest, the statement that I will be the closest to gay that he will ever come. Whose stone identity was erased in an instant, who lost their desire for touch because every other pair of hands petting my newly shaved head feels like his. The one who won over The Fiancée with their hugs runs from embraces now because they feel like that last embrace I endured from him before I managed to escape. Who hides in corners to watch the doors and can't let people behind them any more. Who rocks back and forth and back and forth and screams to please not touch them even when they are alone because I am never alone anymore, not really.

I am too much of a coward to block him.