The Rapist Of My Dreams

How funny it is,
That the rapist of my dreams says he liked me better when I was motherly,
When I was "normal," pliant, the image of calm,
And he thought it would work out between him and me.
But my gut knew better, even then it whispered—NEVER.

You say I showed my true colours as if I should have stayed muted,
But when I spoke the way you always did,
When I echoed the careless way you’d talk about women,
Suddenly I became a list of colorful adjectives you could hurl my way.

You say I was strong and level-headed once,
And I still am—more than you’ll ever be.
But you, who put me in life-threatening situations,
You, who made me hate my own body, its functions, its needs,
Does that make you wise, educated, "the man"?

Even then, I could see you weren't in love with me—just infatuated,
Like every other guy, I rejected them, not out of ego, but for their lack of depth.
You were no different; you were just another shallow face in the crowd.
The only reason you could get away with all you did
It is because I suffer from martyr syndrome.

A man who learned about women’s bodies from porn,
Who tried to teach me the anatomy and emotions I live with daily.
Did you really go to school and study, or did you just lust over girls
And follow what your friends told you to do?
Now you tell me those same uneducated fools call me crazy and hysterical?

Is that what they teach in your home—how to degrade a woman with ease?
Please, I know more than you could ever imagine.
You’ve memorized facts to gain power, money, political favours,
But I’ve lived principles, and breathed ethics, through and through.

Do you think I said yes to you because you were the "IT" man?
No, I saw you then for what you truly are—
An egoistic, misogynistic, man-child,
Desperate for validation, needing to bring a woman down to feel tall.

I put up with you not for love, but because I believed in helping,
Because I thought there might be something human in you.
But stories of you—your cruelty, your selfishness—came from more than one source.
You’ve never been kind to people, never cared without looking for a gain.

And you think you’re a good guy?
You judge me by my size, my body, my voice,
Yet you admitted you’re not a leader, just a follower,
And you think I’d follow someone like you, and make foolish choices because you "charmed" me?

No, the only delusion here is your own.
You never charmed me; you disgusted me.
And now, if you truly think I was the one enthralled,
Then you’re still as clueless as you’ve always been.