She woke up under a sheet and didn't realize it right away,
but she was lying right next to regret disguised as a
beautiful liar.
Her clothes are on the floor and her head is pounding
and she remembers pushing his hand away but when
she sneaks into his bathroom while he's still passed out,
she sees the blood all over her torn underwear and it becomes
fairly clear what happened last night;
she keeps the bloodied garment only because she needs to say
there was something he didn't take from her
while her vision was blurry
and she texts her friends saying she's home and fine and just
so, so tired, but she stands in a scalding shower for an hour trying to
wash away the disgust and the blood and the bruises
and they won't go, so she tries to sleep, but she's haunted by
everything and is so angry with herself and with him and now it's
midnight again and she hasn't eaten all day and her friends think she's
thrown up seven times because she drank too much,
but the nausea came from the memories,
and now it's been a week and the bruises are yellow
but they still hurt the same
and he never texted her
and she's still bleeding
and she burned that pair of underwear
and cut her hair short
and stuffed that ****** black dress in the back of her closet
and told God she'd happily keep the bruises on her arms
and legs
and hips
and neck
if He would just heal
the ones covering her heart.