I don't think I can call something about rape, beautiful, but perhaps well crafted, and poignant, and again, brave -

"The smell of the devil creeping out
From the depths of his body,
That musk you thought you'd never forget."

The repetition of 'bruises on my breasts' tied everything together and made the whole poem have a shiver feeling, to give one chills.

I hope writing this did or can be meaningful to you, as a way to give voice to that for which there are no words. -hugs-