The really atrocious part
is that I truelly believe
that I know better than she does
what will make her happy.
That I know what she does not?
No, not exactly.
More like, she does know deep down,
but it is covered by layers of
Trauma and protective reflex.
I can feel it in my gut,
see it in her eyes,
smell it in her hair.
But she does not trust me enough
to let me try.
And I am no rapist
so the world will never know
who was right.
Sad, no?
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