I Called You Mister (An Unsent Letter)

I called you mister
and you called me
your secret,
your slave bound in chains
of shame and denial.
You called me your property,
laughing that my body
was yours for the taking.
Make no mistake,
there was a time when
you were a man
and I was not yet grown
and you made me your own,
your face illuminated with power
through the depth of black morality.
I remember you, your hands,
hands that make me shrink back
from the men I pass on the street
for fear they will touch me as you did.
Their hands, your hands,
leaving sick traces of you lingering inside my skin,
leaving me to dissect my own body
trying to bleed you out.
But still, you're here
waking me in the night
pouring daggers through my ears
whispering my solitude
commanding my silence.
When I called you mister,
you called me things beyond my years,
stealing away pieces of my innocence
until the numbness consumed me.
There was no use in fighting, in feeling.
When I called you mister,
you called me into isolation.
When I called you mister,
you called me one of the many young girls
you locked away in the soundless room,
you called me whenever you thirsted for blood.
When I called you mister,
I should have been calling you
monster.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/652638/bound_to_darkness/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/652qok/but_he_never_actually_hit_you/