you'll still feel his touches
on your lavender-scented skin
the bruises his prying fingers left
shaped like petals in sickly shades of violet
they won't come off in the shower, though
regardless of how much skin you scrub away
your body will be raw and red and aching
and when you look you'll still see his dirty trace
your insides will burn with every breath
when someone looks at you the way he did
because for so long you mistook lustful eyes
for ones of love
it will take days or weeks or months or years
to call it what it was
and even still the words will taste bitter
as they roll off your tongue
like oil on water
you will think you're recovered
but your eyes will betray you
anytime a similar story comes on the news
you will believe you've moved past it
but the ghost of his hot breath
will linger in your ear
and dance across your spine
you will close your mouth
afraid if you speak
it will be his vulgar words
you will deny it ever happened
but the nightmares will be proof enough
you will hate your body
because it's not yours anymore, it's his
though it was never for him to take
even though you said no
even though you were the one who grew it
and nourished and let it bloom
and he plucked every single petal off with cruel fingers
and disregard for the sign that said "do not touch"
but that's just it,
it was never his to take
only yours to give
and you can take it back
because you have roots
and you are not a one season flower
because you are not his unwelcome advances
and you never will be
and you never were.
you never were
you never were.
