Our bodies are never ours today
They are always our yesterdays
You say today is a new day
But My Body can’t forget
Wincing at the touch.
Today is not a new me
Today is a me that’s a product of my yesterday
A product of my last year
A product of my whole life
And this me can’t shed the feeling of your hands crawling on my skin
Or the weight of your body
The smell of cigarettes on your breath
Or the fear that struck me as I fell stiff to the floor
My body still remembers.
I’m tired of just trying to forget
My skin feels like an inscription of your guilty pleasures
My body is a fossil of everything you killed inside me
I have spent everyday blaming myself for everything
But you are the lightening that struck my wooden house and filled me with fire
No one asked you
Because I sure didn’t.