Another kind of murder ( trigger warning)

i search for phrases 

to place, this one act, to explain, 

even just to begin to  name...

Unwanted Sex ?

sounds like food left congealing on a plate.

his every spat word is lodged in my solar plexus,

my body aches.

the bruises between my thighs have faded

but towering  clouds  of the same colour

hover at the entrance

to any sentence

uttered by others.

an innocent may mouth the words

'it is your duty to protect. you must report it'.

im in a state of constant crouch.

Sexual Assault ?

sounds like a poked finger and recoiling a nasty smell.

im vomiting, copiously,  jack hammer shaking

on the bathroom floor with the theme tune to Eastenders

coming from an open window somewhere.

Getting off the train for work,  one station in

because the press of suits and a tiny caught whiff

of a popular aftershave

is heaving  and stumbling me,

on to a platform,

gasping ,

for the  space of

just me

weeping,

and the whole world

can just fuck off.

Yes, i go to work,

i smile at strangers, searching furtively,

for hidden indicators of violence.

because i, of all people, should have known.

i have mouths to feed,

those who will become my walking wounded.

i lean in to kiss my child goodnight and flinch, as his hand,

unexpectedly, curls in my hair.

im numb, skin peeled, rage ripped and confused.

my sleep is feral, snatched and guarded

and never with the light off.

Exaughsted,

learning to live on Defcon 5

inside and out.

Checking the locks, several times a night

inside and out,

even though it was a sunny,

summer bank-holiday afternoon

and a friend, 

so not Date Rape then.

This and more, goes on for months.

i lose thirty one pounds and everyone tells me

im looking great.

i recount the moves and count again

how many times and where  and how can it be

that EveryThing

has changed ?

Even my own face, here, in the mirror is gone,

lost

and i am somehow still here,  

just.

nothing 

is the same

and just then I realise,

the word is murder.