I’ve seen you before,
you have existed so many times,
in so many forms.
here, with your hand held over your chest,
is this where it hurts the most?
oh, he suffocated you, sweet girl.
took your love until he
didn’t.
accepted your kisses, caressed your skin
until he grew tired of the taste, the texture.
yearned for touches that crystallized quietly
instead of ones that melted, and scorched.
your family had predicted this fate.
looked at you with sad eyes,
begging for you to find someone who knew
how to love a girl so fragile and soft.
but you so badly believed in
the way he’d speak without thinking
the shape his forehead took in the afternoon
the feeling you had waking up with goosebumps
guiding themselves along your arms.
a sort of innocent bravery.
they were quiet about it,
when they drove you to the water.
pushed you until you shattered in their palms,
left you leaking on the floorboards,
seeping into the ground.
when you entered the river
it accepted you tenderly.
a womb aching to recreate.
wake up.
press your hand to your chest again,
with the fingertips that have never touched him.
can you feel it now?