Aftermath

Bruises bloom on my ribcage;

the shape of your fingertips 

etched onto my skin.

The ghost of your hands 

grabbing,

clawing,

taking

what was not yours to take.

Guilt settles in my gut; 

the image of your face

printed on the inside of my eyes.

The ghost of your voice

pleading,

begging,

forcing 

me to give in.

My throat still feels raw from the rage

your mouth captured

before it could escape.

The ghost of your breath 

whispering,

panting,

moaning

a name you shouldn’t know.

My whole being feels like its shut

off because you decided 

I belonged to you.

The ghost of the others before

wanting,

deciding,

choosing

a choice I wouldn’t have made.

My body feels broken at such a young age

used and discarded 

so many times by people like you.

The ghost of my naivety 

losing,

submitting,

dying

whilst you all took  your time.

White noise rings in my ears your voice cut

off as I retreat into myself 

into a spot even you can’t touch.

The ghost of my past selves

biding,

haunting,

waiting

until you all were done with me.

Long after I’ve been released from your cage

long after you’ve forgotten

the innocence you ripped from me

The ghost you and all the others remains

laughing,

taunting,

uncaring

as I bear wounds that will never go away.