Afterthoughts



Hours later
The part of me
That you so carelessly charged upon
In the sacred anonymity of time and place
Is mildly sore
But not near so insulted
As my pride
Nor painful as my regrets

And a part of me resents you
But I know you’ve done nothing wrong
Committed no impropriety
You were freely admitted to every corner
Of my deadened body
It is my own consent
which induces this chaos

I feel betrayed,
Impure,
Molested.
But all betrayal,
Any molestation
Has chosen my mind as its victim
As well as its predator.
And I can only blame myself
For this pain

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