Your voice lingers on my skin.

The smokescreen of its melody.

And you come back from the dead.

With your mouth wide open,

Your eyes hallucinatory and victorious.

 

You speak to me but in a language that

Doesn’t exist and I look at you and the

Drive within you that haunts me still

And it’s blown out of proportion.

You inflict harm whilst apologising.

 

I never understood that as a child.

The way your hands grabbed what they

Wanted. How your cheeks wounded mine.

How your pants became too tight,

How our thoughts were so incompatible.

 

You lived in a different reality and I

Contributed to it without knowing it.

My body. My age. My imagination.

The way I kept my mouth shut.

My fists never loosened though.

 

You put a character in me that made

Me gag. Sweet, pleasing and welcoming.

Everything, your pest weeds around my

Body trying to bury it against yours,

Your scent in my hair, my stomach and hands.

 

I wrote letters to the dead to get back to or at you.

I never found you again, I thought, but there are many

Like you. And I’d fall into their trap too.

The way they make you undress.

The way their eyes roll.

 

The tongue exploring every corner.

The violence always close by, ready-made.

About to erode or explode, it all depends on me.

I obeyed. Silently, only realising afterwards

That everything that happened  had been detrimental to myself.

woman lying on rock
Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: