they say,
"every cell in your body regenerates
at least once every
seven years".
it's been two years,
and i still feel your touch on my hips,
on my chest,
on everywhere i wish it wasn't.
it will be another five years,
before i am finally clean of you.
and hell,
i've scrubbed myself raw.
i've tried to disinfect myself
from you.
but the virus remains in my memories.
a red wine stain
on a pretty white blouse.
but in another five years,
i will be clean of you.
in another five years,
i can finally belong to
myself again.
YOU ARE READING
10 Seconds
Poetrypoetry, written by someone who's still trying to figure a lot out. (updates whenever i write something good)
