Get Out of Me

I signed the invisible contract of his
In small writing it read that my hair was too wild.
He hated it frizzy.
Flannels were meant for donation and not for wearing.
I wasn't in the world to make friends.
I wasn't funny anyway.
My laugh must be quiet or not at all.
I give people headaches.
My taste in music must not be shared.
I sing the same 5 songs, oh come what may?
My writing wasn't real so that must be halted immediately.
I swallowed my words until they exploded within me.
I was to be grateful he chose me.
I couldn't show I questioned him choosing me.
I wasn't like the other ones.
Was I pretty enough, or just enough mystery?
I would look forward to saying yes.
No must mean yes.
My voice became silence with no remedy.
I must give up my happy thoughts;
Turn them all into a future enemy.
I can't feel energy.
I can't move freely.
Repeat the cycle unquestioningly,
Tell my therapist it is me who is not thinking clearly.
Choking meant love,
bruising meant joking and loyalty.
I could be part of the family, but not be the family.
I was an odd duck in a room full of heavy dishonesty.
The monster was allowed to devour me.
I must say thank you and sit on the couch.
Accepting my crazy identity.

Tory Talbot Hall

We were sitting outside of your mom's back door drinking beer. You had somehow convinced me that you'd finally accepted we would "just be friends" so I came over to hang out. It had been a bit since I had pulled away. I remember laughing and joking, and me asking you where your other friends were. You had said you'd be having some friends over, yet I was still the only one there.

You texted some people and they started showing up not very long after. Were they ever actually coming? When did they leave? How did you get me into your room? A room you normally shared with your little brother.

I'm still confused about what I drank and how I ended up so completely lost on time and location of my body. Was it the beer? How many did I have? I don't remember having that many. Did you convince me to take a shot? Or was that another night? How did you get me into your room? Your little brother was at your dad's house that night.

How long did it take for you to undo my pants and start touching me? Was it before or after you began touching yourself? How long had you been touching me before I woke up? Did you expect that? Did you think I'd find the strength to stand then stumble my way down your hall?

The note on my car, when I was home. The roses on my car, when I was at work. Did you watch me? Plotting until you could make me yours.

Why were you so worried about me waking your mom up? Would she have been so easily able to explain this away if she had seen me? Does she still explain you away?

You tried to cry. Were you aiming to confuse me further? Making me think you cared about me, and that I had it all wrong? You were the victim after all; things with me were different and you just wished I could see that. Why can't the girls you love ever see that? Those things you would say about her too. Did you rape her? How many times have you done this since?