It’s been eight days, 192 hours, 11520 minutes since you invaded my home. My blinds are sealed, my curtains are sewn and my sheets are wrapped around my aching body. My pillow is a sponge; carrying the tears that flow from my sunken eyes and holding them close. I can feel the coldness of the stale air flowing down my bruised back and running along my neck just like your iced breath did.

The bolt is across the door and the windows are locked tight. My closet door is tied together with the strands of my thoughts because I was told that’s where the monsters were; where you were. My mirror is covered by a dark black sheet, hiding my reflection into the pits of depression. My phone is in a grave far away from reach and the memories of it’s funeral so sudden.

The floor smells of soap, your footprints gone to the normal eye but for me still imprinted in the memory of my own. It is like you were never here to those who wonder in. But for me I see the sketch of your black pointed shoes making bloody trails on the edges of my mind.

I can still smell your cologne infected trace on my washing machine addicted sheets. The once satin cover has been turned into a pile of dark ash that set alight the moment you laid upon them. The ruble of my mind lay tightly to my outline and clings to every movement. The smell of your cologne mixed with smoke reminds me that my body is still on fire.

Your fingers visit me in the night and your lips awaken me from my nightmares. I feel the roughness of your fingers against my throat as my whole body aches for oxygen. Your fingers maze down my body, inside my curves and along my edges. The sharpness of your nails leave holes along my skin and you tongue leaves cigarette burns against my neck. Your lips cut open my breasts and blister my lips. My scalp still tingles from the tug of your fists.

My room is a psych ward filled with visits from Depression, Anxiety and Panic Attacks. Your name not on the visitor list and so when I called into the well no one heard my cries. Heads turned and lips shushed the way you shushed me on that Wednesday night. The way you pinned my hope down and destroyed my happiness. The way you invaded my sanity and my being.

My skin is raw from the hourly showers, my mind is a war that won’t surrender. My heart is a blackbird that has lost it’s wings. My back is a museum of purples and blacks that have been stung from your fingertips. My cheeks are bruised apples that were disregarded and unvalued.

On that Wednesday morning, you entered my home and I told you no. My screams were raw and piercing, your tongue was poisonous and your hands like iron. My body was weak and frail. You invaded my body, my home, my mind and you took the purity away from me.

I cannot look at another lover without feeling sick. I cannot welcome my own mother into my home for fear that she will see the marks you left. And I cannot look at my body without seeing you. You were the monsters under my bed that stories warned me about. You were the beast in my closet that would creep up on me at night and enter my nightmares. You were the one that took everything from me and left me with nothing but my mind and my bruised body.

You were the one who left me with the broken pieces of my skin and no glue. You were the one who gifted me insomnia and I am tired of wearing your guilt. My heart is so empty yet so full and I can’t carry your burden any longer.

Tomorrow will be 9 days, 216 hours, 12960 minutes since you created a war within my own existence.


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