I thought of you randomly tonight,
and realized, I still had your number,
written on the last page of a notebook
riddled with coffee stains and regret.
It didn't take long to find you online,
to remember that you had a daughter
around my age when we first met.
Shivers travel up my spine.
I was of age, but why does it still
haunt me now?
I didn't even use my real name,
and to this day, I ask myself,
did I feel safe with you?
Is that what safety was for me?
Truck stops outside city limits.
No care in the world if you kidnapped
me and took me across state lines.
Could I even give my consent
when I was trembling and foggy-eyed
for days after?
Did I really enjoy it, or was I just
lying to myself?
Was I trying to outgrow and outrun
everything that I said I wasn't
allowed to do this?
