June 19, 2021.

wolf in sheep’s clothing

I had never been kissed
But I had been groped
Never had my hand held
But I had felt hands on my throat

What sort of drug is love
If it makes someone behave like this
If this is how it’s supposed to feel
I no longer want it

He was a class clown
Charismatic and considered kind
But this was no laughing matter
And no one was on my side

And though my body
At that time in my life
Didn’t seem to be mine
I woke up crying about the shattered person in my mirror

Oh but he keeps trying to be my friend
Years later, as if I’ve forgotten
Or as if I’ve been convinced it wasn’t so bad
As if the hungry wolf had never sunk its teeth into the lamb

Poetry by aidan haskel The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 184 times
Written on 2021-06-19 at 17:45

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Steven Riddle
frighteningly powerful. The imagery and the play of words and expectations undermines where you think you are going in it. And it is a dark place indeed—wonderfully, soberingly captured. Thank you.