Remember My Name

Content warning: rape and sexual assault.

Disclaimer: the events portrayed in this poem do not pertain to the author, but are the experiences of close friends combined into a single poem.

rape and sexual assault. .jpg

I remember your smell the most.


It was that cologne- Georgio Armani “Eau Por Homme.”


I know because I smelt it once, walking through Macy’s with my mom.


I had to run to the bathroom and sit on that cold, hard, marble, floor,


trying to claw away that memory of you touching me with your barbed wire hands like my body was the target in a war.


I covered my tears with a sorry excuse about period pains,


because I didn’t think my mother would know best anymore.

 


And speaking of my period,


I missed it that month, in case you’re curious.


There was a pregnancy test in my drawer,


That I had bought at the local drug store,


where the cashier almost dropped to the floor when I walked up to pay,


because, I’m sure, the last thing she expected to see that day,


was a fourteen-year-old buying a Clearblue test when she hadn’t even started wearing training bras yet.


And none of this made sense because you had told your friends I was “the type of girl you fall in love with.”


But I guess what you really meant was that I was the type of girl you rape after a movie date,


since you paid for the tickets and dinner and said it was the least I could do, because I owed it to you.

 


You took my virginity,


but when I ran into you last summer, you couldn’t even remember my name.


So you left me with a lot to work through, to say the least,


and this is long overdue,


but I’ve decided that the victim here, is going to be you.

 


One day this will all catch up to you,


and this poem is only the start.


Because “no” is a word you should have learned, but here’s a quick lesson.


No, I was not asking for it.
No, I did not want it.
No, I owed you nothing.
No, you will not get away with it.


There’s a flood of women that are going to bang on your door one day.


And they will demand justice not just for my rape, but for all rapes.

 

 

And on that day,


I promise you,

 

You’ll remember my name.

 

Author: Cira Mancuso