she looks at herself in the mirror
and wonders how she got here
standing like a conqueror
who won the battle
but she doesn’t realize
the war has just begun

his tongue moves up her inner thigh
she floats in a dream
the white pillow her cloud
and she thinks he is an angel
a bright star on her darkest days

but he was never a star
he was a meteorite
that crashed in her garden
leaving a crater of fire
consuming every living thing

four years have passed
but the fire still burns
those bittersweet memories
rotate through her mind
like a slideshow
she can’t turn off

now
whenever she wears that bra
she remembers herself in the mirror
and wishes she could go back
as a whisper
and tell herself
he’s a demon
do not trust him

even though
she’s washed her body
thousands of times
since he last touched it
it will never be enough