5:31 am

I’m losing a battle I did not choose to fight in, I have waited nearly fourteen years for freedom. There is still no stopping him. I lay next to someone I adore and He still clogs my thoughts like hair in drainage. I glance at my love as they sleep, Peaceful and snoring softly, And I wish I could block him out But he sticks to me like molasses. Divulging my soul, Sneaking into every crevice I thought was my own. I should’ve known better, He taught me I will never belong to myself. Not after what he did. And I feel the burning of the shower water As I try to cleanse myself Of the memories, 100 degrees, Of his hands, 104 His body, 107 His words. 110 I crank up the heat and it’s not hot enough, One hundred and twenty degrees I feel my skin begin to burn I turn the faucet handle To the depths of Hell, And still it’s not enough, I’m unclean, Unkempt, His Property. I was marked as his On my back, Scar tissue only I know the truth to. When my partner traces their thumb over it I shiver but stay silent, Not because it reminds me of him, But because it reminds me of all that could be done, Of all that could yet to be. And I fear he knows the new address, I worry he knows the reason behind the move, I’m terrified. Scared. All these years I’ve lived in fear. Waiting for the shoe to drop, Waiting for him to summon me, Call me back, The best friend of his son, His sexual apprentice, Six years old, Seven, Eight, Nine, Taught to wait at his beckon, His pet. I try to tell people I’m over it, But I’m starting to think Maybe This Is not Something I will Be getting over. How do I tell my partner, Someone I trust with my most intimate Of soul secrets, Who has kissed away The hurt And fear That I may never be Enough? I want to be, I do. Desperately, Longingly I do. But what if he broke something within The first time he decided My childhood body was nothing but A space for His phallus to operate in. They tell me I’m enough, But they weren’t there when it happened, What If It Was My Fault? A child cannot consent Certainly not to a predator, But he convinced me of his princeship, That our relations Were but a dalliance, Needing to be hidden from thieves, And social workers. What if they find out my naivete, My foolish, For as a child I knew not What he was doing, But only what I was becoming? And they leave, Knowing The truth, In the fact That they Deserve Better? One Hundred Twenty-Two Degrees Fahrenheit And my skin crawls, Beat red and burning, Knowing The truth Of my body now. That I am a product that Has been tampered, An item you can no longer return to seller. I am of ruins, And they are forever bound by my blood.