Florida Rain

He lives in Colorado now,
vegan and proud.

He crashes at her place.
I’ve seen her,
delicate, like lace.

He’s from Kentucky,
where he became a junkie.

And a thief and a cheat,
a liar and leech.

But we, we met in Florida.

On a rainy day,
where he took me by the hand to play.

Oh, and did he want to play.

With his future, with his life,
with his dick like a knife.

Aimed to pierce my frame,
and fracture my soul.

And though I begged and bled,
he disregarded my pleas of “no.”

But that was a long time ago.

Before he met her,
in Colorado.

4 Comments

    1. Jason, thank you for acknowledging that. It is very sad. It’s also, not to minimize it, a very common story. But it’s my story, and it’s something I continue to work through every day. Some days are better than others, and some days just hurt. But on those days writing about it or talking through it helps. This was written and published on one of “those days.”

      Liked by 1 person

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