satin sheets clutched to her skin
she climbed over ruins of what she'd done
and recalled her night of sin
visions of music and flirty fun
were drowned by passion and guilt
she began building walls to protect her mind
from the horror she had built:
it was the fault of the music, or too long without
or the men who shared her bed
it was the fault of alcohol, drugs, or rape
or the flirty things she'd said
it was because she'd dressed in clothes too fine
that showed off too much flesh
it was because she'd not said "no" just when
her chance was ripe and fresh
she stopped and turned to stare at her mess
to face what she had made
she looked into the snoring mass
on the bed in which she'd laid
if memories could be relived
in the blinking of an eye
then that must be what happened then
as she collapsed to cry
then on her shoulder was placed a hand
with a familiar feel and scent
more memories then returned to her
of the night she had just spent
she was not alone in the pile of men
who on the bed still rest
she remembered a touch both soft and fair
with hip and lip and breast
nor why her heart slowed pace
but she stood and turned and held on tight
and stared into her face
she hugged her long and felt relieved
as the sheets that hid her spilt
and on that floor in satin folds
she laid to rest her guilt:
it wasn't rape nor drugs nor drink
nor what clothes she had on
it was just a night hat went too far
and they would now move on
in that bed unmade, in that place unclean
a single clear spot shown
that guilt shared secret between two friends
is guilt not felt alone
