He and I were not united by love or hate, or lust disguised as hate, occasionally one of my girlfriends might have ventured, "I know he's a jerk, but he is good-looking...wouldn't you maybe go out with him just once?", and she wouldn't mean "go out", and as proof of my indifference I might have said I'd fuck him but I wouldn't go out with him, and his friends might have said she's got nice tits for one of them whatever they thought I was, and they might have asked him, would ya poke her, and they would have laughed when he said sure, if she asked me nice, and we didn't pass each other often in the halls because our worlds barely touched and we didn't think about each other except from time to time when we passed too closely in the halls and even then it wasn't  anything either of us thought about past the moment.

He and I should be divided but like a girl in love, every day for months I thought about this man, and talked about this man incessantly like a girl in love, pored over his picture and bored my friends and hunted this man's soul as if I were a girl in love, he and I were born in the same year, we both had parents who never divorced and should have, we both watched The Simpsons and watched the Wall come down, and no one will denounce me if a lust for vengeance rears its head from time to time, given all the particulars and circumstances I'm told forgiveness isn't necessary here, survival, mere survival, is counted as a win—but I am told by others as we look into the abyss so the abyss looks into us, and now I think no matter whether one forgives the violator or the violation, this matter of forgiveness is a dodge.  

He and I will always be united and divided by an act of violation and no one would find fault if I used my dying breath to curse his name but knowing how hard-fought the battle is, should this man find himself in turn the violated one nothing's gained and nothing is redeemed if then I would not fight as hard for him.