This is the Problem

Poetry Sunday

Photo by jens holm on Unsplash

He says there’s a disconnection
between my body
and my mind,
and he is right.

When he places his electric hand
on the curve of my lower back,
it jolts my spine.
He calls it sexy.

Following the body,
I close my eyes and disappear.
A reflex sucks him in.
I can’t stop screaming.

I scream like I’ve never screamed before,
and he interprets literally —

Thank you,
thank you,
more,
more,
more,
yes,
yes,
yes,
more,
please,
thank you.

With closed eyes, I want him to swallow me.
He says he wants to.

I scream like I’ve never screamed before,
but inside, the words are different —

No,
stop,
stop it,
stop it now,
I —
don’t —
want —
this,
no,
no,
NO.

With open eyes, I want to run away.
He says please stay.

He asks,
if it feels so good,
what’s the problem?

He thinks that my body tells the truth
and my mind, the lies.

This is the problem.