Him

Location

United Kingdom

I can feel his hands, branded into my skin                                                                                                               

His hot breath against my cold neck 

His fingers clenched tightly around my limbs

His hand slithering up my leg, ruffling the cloth I wear

His mouth spitting venom into my face

His words, like acid burning away at my reputation

Speckles of saliva splattering my frail mask; I cringe at his demeanour

A wave of resistance crashes over me and I yank for freedom

I am rigidly rooted in his presence, a soul torn from its corpse

For what feels like eternity, trapped in my own mind

Tormented in self-inflicted abuse

Glimpses of mauve finger prints, clusters of contusions staining my arms

Flesh peeling under chipped varnished nails, desperation of clawing away at my own existence

I am breathing, living, yet I am not alive

I am contaminated

I am the tarnished residue he left.

This poem is about: 
Me

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