I protect myself with sarcasm
so you can't hurt me.

I reek of you.
You coat
every
inch of
dead
skin cell
my layers hold.

I brush my teeth
to take away
your breath from
mine.
I can't taste
your salty lips,
your cigarette tongue.
My mouth is
mint.

I step into the shower.
Thin,
sharp
knives
rain on my body,
stabbing.
slicing,
shredding
your touch.
You no longer
hold me in your arms.
You no longer
caress me.

I immerse my scalp in
the pricking pour
of needles.
Scalding,
hot
blood
burns my face.
Your hands are
gone
from my cheeks.
Your lips
have found
the company
of another.

I put
a razor
to my leg,
and
shave away
your legs
from
intertwining with
mine.
I sleep alone.

I douse my hair
with
acid shampoo
that burns
away
your strong hands,
your gentle touch.
You don't love me.

I pull
open
the shower curtain.
I am clean.