I could not survive you again. 
Your storm ripped me limb from limb;
I was strewn about, losing pieces of myself in the wind.
 
Lightning struck: the blow of your hand on my cheek.
Black and blue cloud-shaped bruises,
thunder rippling underneath my skin.
 
I used to like the rain, but my heart was sopping wet and
you were mad because I needed the sun more
than I needed you.
 
I was ready for flowers
to be planted within me,
not to be constantly uprooted instead.
 
I gained strength and freed myself from you, 
but that also meant I finally gained the strength to let go of the worst parts of myself too.