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.