i say “no, i’m not drunk” a little too loudly.
i have never been the most proficient
and my deception is at a disadvantage
when i am in this drunken state.
my boyfriend asks me with more kindness
we are sitting at a table of friends,
if i have the right to call them that.
i’m also not sure i can call it a table,
seeing as it’s a whiteboard balanced
i can’t lean too hard on the edge,
for fear of everything falling.
i am loud, and flirtatious,
patterns to please the ear.
how much of an act it truly is.
the girl two seats left of me
her body looks nothing like mine.
she is thin, and beautiful,
and i don’t think her boldness
is a shield like like the kind i bear.
two seats in the other direction,
like the boys who hurt me.
tattooed skin. and muscled arms.
baseball cap. and defined hands.
i flinch when he touches my palm.
it is brief, just part of the game,
his character handing mine a weapon,
so i can stop seeing him as a threat.
i hate that my trauma is here,
new faces around a table,
but old fears watching me.
this is no longer dungeons and dragons.
and my past will fill the present.
i fear if i speak the words to him,
i will ruin the delicate balance of the whiteboard
the dungeon master told me
he does not allow sexual assault
rape has no place at his table,
and i know he means this as a kindness.
but i cannot help feeling
as though i have broken a golden rule.
i have brought my rape to the table.
where it is explicitly forbidden.
i don’t know what to say,
so i make another dirty joke.
(do i want to fuck the illithid
or the ranger two seats to my left?)
and dig my feet into the carpet.
it has only been 6 seconds.
i have been moving the pieces
in my head while the world stood still.
this is how the order goes.
who would face foes beside me.
this is how the game goes.
pixelskylines
2087
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