You don’t remember or pretend not to. I play along as I love you. But it hurts. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally.
Let me confess to you. Let me shout it down. Let the world know.
I am the scars of yours. I am the knife. I am the blood. The bleeding.
Sometimes I wonder if it will ever stop. Sometimes I realize it will not.
Must I go away? Far away? (Like the boy with the baseball cap left me. Like Lise & KK walked away.) Must I leave? I want to give you peace.
Peace you will probably never feel as long as I am here to prick at your subconscious memories that left or were blocked out long ago.
I need to remind myself to breathe. But then I look. Fall back down. Can I say RUN? No. It’s too late.
Little girl, I’ll keep running back to you. Attempting to. Smile. Broken. Let me hug you. Let me speak. Let me listen.
Don’t go. But no one ever listened.
The call. The flight. I open the door. Beige trench coat on (my soul). Silver chain on. Boy with the baseball cap. He’s there. RUN.
I open my mouth. No sound. MUTE. Broken body. I will forever wonder. RUN. SCREAM. But most of all. Don’t break.
I am not sure if I did.