my favourite pastime was convincing people you were good to me
because apparently, no one else believed it
i want you to know that you've changed the way i think
that certain body language will make me flinch
and recoil in on myself inch by inch
until i feel like everything about me will shrink
when i want to say no, my heart will race
and the anxiety of bodily autonomy will make my stomach ache
because of how you'd punch the walls so hard they'd shake
and now, with better men, i fear their embrace
last night i dreamt of my mother screaming
and of being eaten alive,
my grandmother hurting me
and of my father's life
and of so many people taking up my space
and pushing me into corners
but it was only ever you
and the corner of your room
where i'd sit, legs crossed, tear-stained, voice broken and used
and i'd pray for it to stop and for loving to resume