What You Stole

What You Stole

 

I see your hand prints

I see their traces on my skin,

Unwanted finger tips caressing my thigh

They yank at my dress drenching me in your unwelcome scent     

 

I am not worthy of love

        

 

Today I met someone new

He doesn’t know what you stole

But I still see your hand prints, they linger on my conscious

He cannot see what you took from me

The way you crushed my soul                  

The way you betrayed the trust I had given 

But sometimes I wonder if he catches a glimpse

If he recognizes my nervousness as fear that it would happen again

 

I am not worthy of love

 

 

Today I think I found love

He is kind and caring, unlike you

I tell him about the hand prints that linger on my conscious

              He can see what you what you took from me

But I cannot quiet the fear that comes creeping in

 

I am not worthy of love

 

Today I am alone

I still see you hand prints, I fight them off my skin

I am not what you did

I am not the finger tips that caress my skin

Nor the scent that contaminates my clothes

I cannot help that you are callous and conceited and compulsive and conniving  

No, that is not my fault, no not at all

 

 

I am worthy to be loved

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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