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