When I lay down at night,
sometimes I can still feel
hands on my body –
not the gentle touch of a lover
but the harsh pain of
you.

In the days and weeks
and months after
you
first raped me
I boiled myself
and scrubbed myself raw
in baths and showers
until my skin was red and blistering
to try and wash away the feeling.

I wanted to peel every last inch
of flesh off my bones,
so everything could grow back fresh
and I could pretend
to have a body that
you
had never laid hands on.

I tried to replace
the memories of touch
with other peoples’ hands
but it never helped
because after so long,
they all just blur into one
and they all start to look like
you.

I hate that
you
still have
such power over me.
I will make myself anew,
and try my best
to leave
you
with this shell.

– for my abuser, you sack of shit