I saw what she wrote
and that sat me thinking.
Cruel eyes,
cruel hands,
painting me
black and blue.
purple here,
green there,
I'll stitch it with my hair.
Grit my teeth,
naked in the sheath
salt pouring out from
those that saw it all.

Close them.

Maybe this time
the dents in the wall,
the splintered bat-
the window
where my feet
set running
on that muddy earth-
-
maybe this time it'll hurt so bad
that it'll have never happened.