I didn’t scream the way they say,
Didn’t fight him off or run away.
Just froze beneath a borrowed skin,
While something broke and let him in.
Now every night it comes back around,
Not always sight, but scent and sound.
A song, a breath, a certain air,
And suddenly, he’s still there
.
My body knows before I do,
It stiffens up, turns cold, feels blue.
Like I’m no longer in my bones,
Just trapped inside what memory owns
.
I scrub my skin but feel it stay,
Like something won’t just wash away.
His shadow lingers in my space,
In every silence, every place.
They say “move on,” as if I could,
As if its easy, as if they would.
But healing isn’t clean or fast,
When you’re still living in the past.