By Autumn Lily Joseph
And you let him take from you
Piece by piece, slowly to begin with, you’d never have seen it coming:
The annihilation of these tiny parts
Spine crumbling under the weight of your ‘home.’
The pace quickens and you’re dissolving – it’s too late, too fast
Time and pieces of you falling through translucent fingers,
Too late to catch your breath, catch up with…
what the hell is going on?
You’re looking in the mirror, one breast sags unceremoniously.
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!
His silhouette moves behind the shower screen.
And you realise he’s only human, no God lives in this house –
No God lives in him.
You examine the fingerprints on your collar bones, up your thighs.
The fingerprints you let him leave when he fucked you last night,
Remember how you pretended to like it?
You whisper at this stranger staring back at you in the bathroom mirror,
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
Why did you let this happen to you?
You start screaming at her inside your head,
Grip the shower basin, as pendulum thoughts swing back and forth.
- He steps out the shower, kisses your damp neck and the world goes
Silent.
But the thoughts…
They resurface swinging back and forth, counting the minutes
As you slowly realise you no longer know
who
you
are?
Grudgingly realise it’s not even his fault,
The horrific truth you were so complicit.
Now you’re just a shell who sits up at night waiting for the right moment
To pack a bag and exit his life.
A funeral procession for the parts you lost on the cold lino floor.