After the Pillage

17 Feb

Content Warning: This piece contains themes of sexual exploitation. It may be triggering. Please read with caution.

I’m naive to think you might be different.

From all the guys before you.

With praise and promises, I thought you were honest.

I truly began to adore you.

You love me for three minutes.

Just long enough to finish.

Then, like clockwork,

I am dismissed.

Another body checked off your list.

And I’m stupid enough

to wonder

if maybe this time

I’d be chosen.

Maybe this time

I’d be worthy

of a love

that stays.

But I am only worth my body.

Good enough to use,

never enough to keep.

Never enough to treasure.

My body is no longer a temple.

It is an ancient ruin,

ransacked by hungry hands,

pillaged for pleasure,

left open to the weather.

Once sacred.

Now hopelessly abandoned.

I sit on the bathroom tiles,

cold against my spine,

puking up the taste of you,

because my body knows

what my heart keeps denying:

I was never wanted.

Only used.

For anyone who has ever confused access with affection or silence with safety—you’re not alone.

If you’re struggling, please reach out. There is always someone who will listen. (Lifeline 13 11 14 / Beyond Blue 1300 22 4636)

In Loving Memory