Your imprint is seared inside me, burning and fraying my fragile nerve endings, it’s as if you have never left, your rotten essence still lingers in the shards of my brokenness. Your foul stench clinges to my heart, it’s as if you still suck out and feed on my powerless being, it’s as if you still inhale the same stale air as I. You rip me apart, and you relish in my muffled screams, you want me to remember the pain, you want me to remember the taste of your name on my lips. You devour the way I whisper for you to ‘Please stop’, it spurs you on, my suffering always turned you on. Your monster still haunts the graveyard where my soul has long since retreated to seek respite. Your presence reeks of greed, you are dauntless in your pursuit, your grabby hands still wrap around my neck, squeezing and taking the light away from my eyes, just as cruelly as I know you enjoyed. You never knew how to touch gently, the wreaths of blooming bruises don’t tell quite the story, covered up as they are, just like your debauchery. You are sheathed within me, that dirty little part of me that still doesn’t know how to speak about you, about an ‘us’ which was all you and your morbid lust. This part of me doesn’t quite know how to even begin to recount your horror, the part that still feels that rough tugging in my scalp, phantom pain of a rough hand gripping my then long hair and twisting it, reaching down towards my soul and twisting it, changing me and tainting me.
You are the one thing I am ashamed of, your power over me doesn’t fade away, even when I scratch and tear at myself. You have settled beneath my skin, the fetid rot of your being dwelling in those shallow and deep cuts you made to mark me as yours. I was yours to be painted in blood, bathe in the curses you said I deserved. I was your lover, I was also your bitch, a glorified slave chained to your whims. I still feel the drying seed of your misdeeds on my scarred thighs, my body was for your pleasure and now the pain I feel in my core, is all mine. I am repulsed by the way you have left me, your absence doesn’t bring me any comfort, my skin still tastes like your sins, my eyes still shed bitter tears for all those unspeakable things you did to me. I can still taste you, can still taste your evil on the tip of my tongue, still feel the raised surfaces of the criss crossed scars forming a grotesque labyrinth carved on my body. You are there, buried deep inside of me, ravaging me from within. You are a disease, a plague, you leave me with festering pain, blistering like your unworthy touch. I try to wash away those ghostly fingertips that no longer pry me open, but somehow they still grip my flesh, tearing into it, feasting on my helpless pleas. I hate the way you have won, I hate the way my body had surrendered to yours. You plundered and took never giving me anything but intense hurt in return. You have left me alone, but it’s as if you have never ever gone away. You still move within me, lurking, waiting for my vulnerability to show through for you to prey upon. You will be here, forever a part of me, a part I loathe with all the viciousness my being can muster. But what kills me the most, what cuts me deeper than all those wounds you left me with, is that you will be here, the slippery and harsh voice in my ear, the cruel hold on my battered self, you will be here, when all those parts of me, those untouched by your filth, those that I hope to salvage, are gone.