salt in the wound

my world blurs but never goes noir
didn't blossom black until
someone deemed darkness necessary
twisted boy looking for limp limbs
for a girl to turn insensate
to push into inertia, to capture 
in a hazy chemical daze
at least she's gone now

no flashback to the moments
of fear and powerlessness this time
left with a mere moment of memory
don't have to reiterate
the things he did to me
over and over and over again
just have to wonder
over and over and over again

they charge him: rape, sodomy
but i know it doesn't matter anyway
it's only just for show anyway
it's only just my fault anyway
these men are half my size 
and take up twice as much space
unthwarted by a thicket of leg hair
that failed to furnish me safety

constellations of bruises manifest
my body crying out, desperate 
is it self harm to kneel 
my wounds into piles of salt?
to feel these tiny granules 
press into supplicating knees?
to emerge half-healed almost-scars 
to burn in boiling water?

i'm just making sure 
this body is still real cause
i'm floating above the bathtub 
as i watch a woman wince and whimper
knowing full well she 
created this hell for herself
knowing the way she abandons herself 
could never lead to wholeness

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