Is This What Love Is

Those soft tendrils of skin grazing my being Taking in my form whole Accepting me as I was Using me as I was When did love turn to deceit and lies When did my body turn into a medium of use I'm nothing but my body, my parts, my abilities That's all you ever wanted from me, wasn't it? You felt me, but you didn't see me. Now I lay in bed every night Feeling the pound of you inside and out A rhythmic motion, nonconsensual, debilitating I'm frozen in time, pinned to a bed with no escape My bed, your bed, Lake Arrowhead It's all the same, as my no's and pleads fall apart My consent never mattered, did it? Coercion is a funny thing Gaslighting of the self "Is this what love is?" my 16 year old self asks. "No, kiddo, not even close" my current self replies.