Almost 20 and still
I cannot write about the time you hit me
and wouldn't stop.
I am all out.
For years, the smell of chlorine
stuck to my skin like perfume
and once, in February
the blood so thick I couldn't swallow.
I let that part of me circle down the drain.
I swore to never tell anyone
about the taste
of dried blood on your teeth.
Your knuckles ripping
me apart at almost 20, and still,
I need you more than water.
I hit the wall, the phone rings, and everything
goes blue.

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