And you with the way you touched my scars as if

to etch another chalk reminder

on to the wall of my body

to keep track of how many times

it would never happen again.

And you who never saw me for more than tan legs spread

open on off white sheets,

despite the shades of my soul

that spilled into your arms-

teal tears, lavender laughter, and scarlet screams-

you only ever saw my secrets as stains.

And you with your greedy tongue that never

tasted the same way twice

because new skin always

seemed more intoxicating than mine,

which you had rendered a chaser.

And you who never admitted out loud that brown eyes

were not your favorite

but made it clear every time

you dipped your knuckles

in black and blue paint

and plastered it against my cheek bones.

And you with the way you stripped my world

clean of color.