Baseball Bruises and Burning Buildings
I wasn’t really feeling a connection
So I unmatched him on tinder,Deleted him from my Snapchat,
Stopped responding when he called asking for another date.
A week later he DM’s me;
“Hey bitch, next time you ghost someone, at least have the heart to end it in person”
The last time I rejected someone’s advances in person,
It ended in bruises.
Shimming out the window in a bathroom
As he was breaking down the door,
It took me a long time to stomach watching baseball again
Because of wooden bat he used in one hand to treat me like a home run, and held my dirty underwear in the other.
6’2 and drunk,
I came home from work that night, just in time for him to blame me for his loneliness.
He played judge, jury, and executioner;
I was found guilty of the friend-zone,
Convicted and sentenced to weeks of nightmares.
Closed eye pictures of the sweater he tried to rip off my body,
like I was a belated Christmas present he had stored away in the closet;
When my manager asked the why I needed to transfer, why I wanted to move from my current living situation,
It felt like I was choking on ribbons.
He told me it was my fault for putting myself in that predicament,
After all,
A girl fresh from a broken engagement, moving in with two guys in a studio apartment?!
I should have known that something was going to happen, he laughed
I should have known better, after all,
Girls and guys can’t be just friends.
When he asked if I filed a police report,
I wondered if I could be fired from my job for casually mentioning my home was a drug pit stop
If they tested me, it would have been positive,
I would have been arrested regardless of my roommates actions.
My new beau asked about the black and blue,
Grand-slammed into my body,
I told him they were self inflicted.
He believed me.
After all,
It’s easier to convince people you’re crazy like that,
Than it is to self describe yourself as an attempted rape victim,
Me,
So fucking strong,
Me,
Survived so much
And now,
Crumbling into pieces again after having already had built myself back up with my own two hands.
I am a rerun marathon,
Easily predictable,
I wonder if the world is tired of watching me get hit with the same old sob stories,
Always something going wrong, Little girl who just wants pity,
Well, universe, feel free to take a fucking break,
Pick on someone else for just a little while.
I tell myself that nothing would have happened that night.
I tell myself if I hadn’t called him out for going through my laundry, he would have drank himself to sleep,
That he never would have put his hands on me,
I could have kept my job,
Instead of I had choose between having a bed in a different town, over my financial security,
Because I lost credibility when my manager decided that my assault wasn’t a good enough reason to transfer me to safety.
I tell myself,
escaping from a burning building is such a miracle, but
Still hold myself accountable for him setting it on fire in the first place,
Still wish I had just burned myself at the stake instead,
Because then when the whispers and rumors start about my playing the victim,
It’s by my rules of the game and not his.
(Poem by Carlea Baughn)
