Things she didn't do:
understand my pursed lips, tight and frightened, when hers neared
nor force her tongue behind the balcony of my teeth,
petting the small of its back, shedding waves of unprepared saliva

nor scratch with the tips of her nails, calm and practiced,
stroking a pattern from the root of my hair
that surged, relaxed, every moment

nor hear the tangled letters trip
off my trembling tongue,
tiny protests tumbling after each other

nor pin my shoulders to the wooden frame
of the bed on which she did not shove me down,
but laid like a child to rest

nor notice, past shut eyes, mine wide and wandering,
blinking back tears, alight with their aftermath,
a face too pale already drained of blood and dripping sweat,

nor rip the clothes from my back in a passionate whirlwind
to reveal skin cold as a vacant midnight
and touch it with the utmost care,
as one would an equal, a friend, a lover—

so why could i not say no?