Guilt

Guilt. Guilt everywhere.
Yours, mine, ours.
Your quiet acceptance despite your pain, despite your unease.
Opening yourself to me, offering up your body, as if it were your duty.
For years, there have been times where your ignored yourself,
Where you put yourself time and time again through the abuse
You experienced as a child.

You couldn’t say no, or if you did, you felt guilt.
Thus you opened your legs and suffered through it.
You let me in and smiled, but it killed you breath after breath.
Sure, you enjoyed it sometimes. Maybe. Hopefully…

Then, then… suppressed memories started coming back.
As untrusted feelings first, then more accurate, more certain,
And you slowly realized. Slowly made sense of it.
And told me.

Told me I’d been unknowingly raping you for years.
That yes meant no, except some times.
That my best memories of us sharing intimacy were mine alone,
That you weren’t really there for them.

Of course, those weren’t your words.
You said you had been afraid of losing me if you said no,
Afraid of hurting me, of causing me pain and frustration.
You said it was your fault, and I couldn’t know…

Yet guilt, shame and the fear of losing you, losing your love
Haven’t given me an instant of respite since that day.
I should have known.
I love you deeply, I care, I am not blind, how could I not see?

Unless part of me didn’t want to.
Unless part of me abused you.
Unless part of me raped you.
Unless part of me deserves to die in a fire.

But part of me is so angry at you.
For not saying no back then.
For letting me hurt you.
For letting me be all that I hate.