Souvenirs

I left you something.

Think of it as a souvenir.

Something to help you remember …

that night in the dark

when you came out of nowhere

and gave me tokens of our time together:

of your fetid breath,

heavy body dripping sweat,

hands groping, grasping, ripping,

angry mouth,

hate filled face.

You gave me bruises,

torn flesh, pain inside my body,

scars

where love’s juices will not flow,

panicky limbs that can not relax.

You left your flesh, your blood

under my nails.

You covered me with stinking spit,

sickening semen.

You filled my ears with curses, threats;

my eyes with shadows, enemies, ghosts;

my head with shame, remorse,

guilt.

I am no longer myself.

My once gentle heart harbors rage.

My once peaceful soul is lethal.

I watch for you.

I hunt you.

The wounds I carved

into your face are my gift to you.

Remember me.

Fear me.

Sybill 6/9/15

"Come Out Swinging" by Mark Hobley