To Miss A Thing Poem by Riley Choma

Sweaty palms, knees buckling.
She is all nerves.
He pushes her against the wall and kisses her, and she feels her face heat up as he does.
Her eyes are open wide; she doesn't want to miss a thing.
Then he unbuckles his pants, and she can suddenly hardly breath.
Hand over mouth- his hand, her mouth.
He undoes hers too- and I bet you think this is about sex, but sex has consent.


She looks for her chance- eyes still open wide.
But he has her hands, and she has a wall- she is stuck.
Eyes closed now, closed tight- she wants to miss everything.
This isn't about sex- this is about rape.

He smells of liquor while she smells of fear.
She just gave him a ride because he was too drunk to drive.
She wanted him to survive, but doesn't he know she wants to survive too?
Just because she wanted the kiss, doesn't mean she wanted this!
Her body is a gift.
Her body isn't his to take.

This isn't a poem about consent- but rather...
Lack thereof.
This is a poem about rape.