I got so lost in your handwriting and your wording
I forgot that the hand that held that pen
That hurriedly wrote with typos and lettering full of emotion
Had left each fingers individual print
Etched in red across my cheek
The first time
I blushed for days afterwards
One part to try to hide my offended skin
And four parts to defend you
In an attempt to remind myself of what it was about our love that kept me by your side so long
Excused your actions with history
Weighed out my worth against your tokens of affection
And tried to determine whether your trinkets meant more than my being
Love and fear swallowed each other and became intertwined and embedded in my stomach
How could we go on when every time your skin brushed mine
I could feel my body flinch
And the bruising rise from my bones?
Every kiss was a risk
Because rough sex only appealed as an alternative to the way we lived
It became a reality all to quickly
The love letters riddled with plagiarised apologises
Stack up by the window sill
I can no longer tell if you’re afraid that I will stop loving you
Or that you’re afraid that our friends will hold you accountable for your actions
This was never a question of my love
More of a desperate attempt to reword the miscommunication that for you meant that denting my body with your knuckles was the same as holding me
But there is no teaching that I could do for you
You are no longer a child and your smile no longer makes me weak
I will leave with a blade tucked firmly into my back pocket and your letters doused in gasoline
Confident in the knowledge that
No man again may ever lay his hands on me
And that your letters lay burning at my feet by my design