There is no way i can put a single title on this emotion....so here:


More than once in one night
tried to fight
verbally,
then physically,
then mentally
until
he left.

But--number two then came;
again, didn’t know his name
stunned-
i finally
gave up
the fighting.

Number one now watched,
since he could add another notch-
me.
his sly smile burned
as he went back
to another random girl.

I’m totally sober,
but his hands are still all over
“you’re hot. what’s your number?”
he smirked
boring holes
in my eyes.

My what? my number?
are you fucking kidding me???
it’s OK, just breathe;
i tell myself:
it’s now
or never.

I took a chance.
RAN. No backwards glance
ended up in some restroom;
couldn’t think,
head down
hands on the sink.

Roommate was somewhere
was too drunk to care,
or know,
or realize
what just happened
to her best friend.

Had no phone,
no place to call home,
no car that night,
no names to report;
can't even remember their faces,
only their eyes.

That time has passed
but this feeling has lasted;
i write this, fully
opposing the popular saying.
i now know that
time does not heal all wounds.