I like to imagine I am a strong woman, most days.
That my nieces will look up to me, some day.

But I still look in the mirror and see you kissing those blond girls.
I touch my skin and feel scars.

I find myself whispering the same lies you used to tell me
into my own ears.
“You wouldn’t last a day without me.  No one else will ever want you.”

On those days, I run until my feet bleed.



On those days, I forget I am a scientist, a teacher;
In love.

I think about your hands.
I remember when I was not brave enough to utter just one single word that could have saved me.


I like to imagine I am a strong woman,
but I watch these girls hold their heads high when they walk
and
I am always counting the steps as they
take me further away from you.