Grim Starts With G, And So Does His Name. Poem by Anya Nikolaevna

I still feel
his scent
lingering on my skin
when I close my eyes.

This is not
a romantic poem.

This is regarding
a dark time in my life,
when one person
stripped me
of my pride.

Taking advantage
of my drunken soul
and touching
my everywhere,
making his print
on my paralyzed body.

Words failed me.

I could not utter
a single letter
as I felt him getting harder,
I was mortified.

'What would he do next? '.

By the time
I asked myself this question,
he grabbed my wrist
and, in no poetic word,
he wanted to finish it off.

I miraculously gathered
some sort of force
to make me act
like I was awakening.
This caused him
to jump back
and resort to the restroom.

As I went back to sleep,
I could not comprehend
the extent of weakness
that took place
from my part.

I knew this would haunt me
for the rest of my life.

I am writing
about this incident
6 months later,
and I still cannot
get this name,
scent,
touch,
breath
out of my mind.