Don’t start calling me ‘your’ anything, you were slime and toxic waste slammed into the back of my throat. You don’t deserve the space in my lungs, a crevice between my wings. Are you happy? I can still feel your hands sliding across my body, your breath tickling the back of my throat, the way my lungs cried for air and vocal cords shattered in the wake of my screams.

Don’t you ever touch me again.