here is what happens:

you touch me, and i spend weeks

scrubbing my skin with boiling water

trying to scrape your fingerprints off,

though they still stay with me like tattoos.

you call out to me, and i can no longer hear a kind word

without remembering your filthy voice

or seeing your lips curve around my name

marking me in tones of shame and fear.

i see you and fear strikes in my chest

deep and potent, tearing breath from my lungs

and i hasten my steps and clench my keys in my fist,

tight enough for the metal to bite into my skin.

you speak and your voice drags razers across my skin,

gashing open dazzling carmine with throwaway words

and you bask in the color as i bleed out,

believing it was for you all along.

i am done being soft,

and i am done being delicate.

i am furious, and i am unstoppable.

i will not forgive you.