He Wore White

Hi there, small disclaimer this is my first time posting so I’m sorry beforehand if I’ve messed up. I’d also like to add a trigger warning as I don’t want to upset anyone.

He wore white.

Which really isn’t fair,
Because white is a pure, clean colour.
And he was anything but.

He touched me.
And did not stop.
My body might have been a temple but it feels like anything but holy now.

Stop means to cease to happen.
But it did not cease.
And he did not stop.

He should have worn black.
I should wear black.
But I had worn blue.
A dark blue for jeans, a light sky blue shirt.

The thing about blue, all kinds of blue, is that it means open
Open skies. Even at night, when it's black, it's still blue
The ocean itself is vast and blue.
But that day, I did not wear blue to show I was open.

I wore blue, because it was a calming colour.
Calm and pure.
Blue and white.
What happened was not calm. It was not pure.

Afterwards, I went outside,
And I cried long enough the tears went dry.
After, I wished for the rain to cry with me.

He wore white.

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