You make my face hot,
my heart race,
my toes tap,
my eyes light up,
and my knees weak;

out of fear,
because your hands were around my neck,
and my life was in your hands.
You left marks that no object or emotion could cover.
You're gone forever, but those repressed memories will be stuck with me for longer than that.

Where exactly do
I put my hands
on somebody who
*hurts all over?

It rips flesh from bone.
It strips away the the lies,
That surround me like a fog.
I breathe in the thick air of my words,
Like cigarette smoke,
Elementary my dear,
No,
I am not a sleuth.
This isn't a mystery.
I am the mystery