Night

Something inside me speaks in turmoiled tongues, 
Whatever his name, his breath is hot in the privacy of my ear.
Stepping into the lighted gloom, the encroaching ceiling, the heaving press of bodies, 
The accidental swipe of a loosened lock, the brief tangle of a stranger's grip,
Stepping outside to snatch at the night air, 
Trying to place myself, 
This is now,
It is this night.
It will not happen again,
Surely not?
My chest tightens at the remembrance of that morning,
Waking with the strange feeling that my body was no longer my own. 
It had been used. It felt unfamiliar, heavy yet hollow. 

Returning to the embrace of my friends,
Their bodies writhing in the lights that play havoc with their features,
A moment's relief as I remind myself I am surrounded by good,
Surrounded by friendship.
But I too believed I was on that night.
The creature tugs at my gut and my eyes continue their frantic searchings. 
In the morning I will soberly count my belongings,
My purse, my phone, my coat, and gingerly, 
Myself?
I will turn over,
And collect my breath.
I survived.
I did not shatter.
I am still whole.
My body is once more my own.