shock. part 1
I was 24 when he spit in my face and shoved me into the guard rail on the bridge above the river.
it’s been a while since i’ve let myself do my favorite things.
let myself
like i’ve been punishing the entirety of my wholeness because I haven’t felt good enough.
perfect enough.
beautiful enough.
my arms are bruised on the insides of my elbows
both left and right
a hematoma he told me about my dominant arm
when blood pools and clots within the tissue
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