It feels infinite, all the things from me that were stolen-
Words torn from my tongue and twisted into weapons,
Endearments and poetry that are now wounds left open,
Dignity and emotion, the vulnerability in a simple smile,
The safety of a quiet laugh, not knowing if it will awaken jealous wrath,
Years of effort, begging, threats, promises, broken screams and glass,
The ability to trust even the gentles touch,
All the versions of myself I wished to be,
The energy to fill the empty shell that is me.