Too Afraid

I was too afraid to struggle
against his strong black body.
I was too afraid to admit
that what he was doing was wrong.
All I could do was cry.

Black mascara streaks
flowing from the corner of my eyes.
Red thick blood
flowing from the inners of my thighs.
How can I admit that I was a victim?

He was sweet before then,
bought me anything I wanted,
took me to the best restaurants,
and introduced me to his friends.

So when he invited me over
to his apartment in the Bronx,
I went freely
in the middle of the night,
looking good
smelling good
with my hair done right,
so what?

He probably didn't understand
how when I said no I really meant it.

He probably didn't understand
how my tears were ones of pain
and not of pleasure.

He probably didn't understand
how my cries for his release
were for his arms and not his
penis.

He probably didn't understand
that the blood that mixed with his semen
was not a sign of virginity
but a sign of destruction.

He probably didn't understand
that my cringes at his touch weren't
shivers of pure ecstasy.

Somebody please help me,
Come on just tell me,
how can I be a victim?
How can I be an added statistic
to the countless unreported rapes?

I can't be...I'm too afraid to be...
too afraid to admit it to myself,
too afraid to admit that
I am scarred and bruised and damaged,
too afraid to admit that
what he did was wrong.

He just probably didn't understand.