Insubstantial

You raped me.
Not in the physical sense.
Not in a way I could fight back.
No, you broke me in ways that don't show.
Ways that aren't visible on skin.

You shattered my confidence.
You raped me, without laying a finger on me.
You butchered my self-worth.
You devastated my sense of self.
And then you had the audacity to say,
"I love you."

You belittled me,
brains washed clean of independent thought.
You forced yourself on me.
You made me so sick of myself.

I took up the alcohol and the knives,
razors and sharp points.
I tried to dig you out, bleed you out,
force you out.
The words building up the revolution inside me.

I took the medicines.
I took the beatings.
I took the starvation and the fear.
I let you drag me to the point of desperation.

You can't see the scars you left.
They lie to deep to be found by mortal eyes.
But you didn't have to touch me to rape me.
You didn't have to raise one finger to mutilate me.

All you had to do was say three simple words.
"I Love You."
That was the sharpest knife of all.

You said it so rarely, I craved the cut.
You showed it so little, I was dried out.
You expressed your, twisted, sense of affection
through spankings and prayers for my soul.
By lies told in such a way to wound,
told in such a way to twist and snap my everything.

You seem confused now, confused as to why I refuse
to have anything to do with you.
You claim innocence, when your tongue's poisons were
deadlier than a viper's.
You claim to still harbor some affection for me.
You never knew me. You just knew the ME you
tried to force me to be.

I'm not a toy. I'm not a doll you can play with.
I'm not a tool to be used in the creation of some
outermost monstrosity. I'm not your plaything.
I'm not a child any longer. I'll no longer be brittle.

And I will no longer be raped.