You Asked me to Write you a Love Poem so Here it is

If you ask me if I was raped,

I will tell you how soft his hands were.

How I would never have thought that hands that soft could hold me down,

how much I loved those hands,

how they stayed so soft, long after they wrapped around my throat.

I will tell you about his smile,

how I never thought a smile that timid could tear me to shreds.

I would tell you about how much I loved that smile,

long after it made me bleed.

 I will tell you about his eyes.

How they didn't look like a killer's.

How every time I looked before and after I could never find the bad in them.

How I'm still not sure there ever was bad in them

If you ask me if he raped me

I will tell you how a wolf in sheep's clothing is still a wolf.

How befriending the sheep does not make him less hungry.

I will tell you how I could never tell when he was hungry.

I will tell you how just because the sheep befriends the wolf 

It doesn't make her into steel.

She does not become immune to the wolf's jaws around her throat 

I will tell you how even when the sheep lays there bleeding,

when the wolf apologizes, 

when he says he never meant to hurt her,

she will tell him she is fine, 

she will apologize for tearing so easily.

She will remember how soft his paws were 

before the claws came out.

She will remember how friendly his smile was 

before his teeth tore out her throat.

And she will wonder what version of him lies behind his eyes today.

If I tell you this you will tell me I was not raped.

You will tell me that sheep do not apologize to wolves with full bellies.

And I wish,

God, I wish more than anything

that you were right.