The quiet rape

the stranger
the victim
the dark alley
a weapon
a struggle for her
the blood
the hospital
the report

yeah, right. . . .

the friend
the victim
the home
no weapon
no struggle for her
no blood
no hospital
no report

In Your bottle

You keep my tears in your bottle
Recording every drop on paper.
A deluge of hope in me
Saturating my struggle
With compassion and empathy.
It’s easier to hate this pain
Than love the causes of my cries
For mercy.
You make them bearable
So I don’t succumb
To my fears.