“Don’t come near my house”
This is the text I received alone in the woods
And I mean,
The actual WOODS.
I’m not speaking poetically,
I was in
Running away was a common theme in my life,
Today, I was running away from the shoves and shouts of
And while the light fall winds dried the blood on my knees
And the tears on my face.
It would never heal the bruises on my back
quell my fear,
or hush my epiphany.
I quickly texted back
“I wasn’t planning on it”
I was planning on it.
My bike was broken and hoisted on my back
My face was covered in grease
My eyes bulged out.
Instead, I stood at your door.
You had on a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a tye-dye shirt.
Your face was wet, from makeup remover,
You weren’t wearing shoes.
You yelled at me
for not coming sooner.
You washed my face
He never questioned the bruises on my back
Or the screams that echoed in my ears.
He never wondered why I wouldn’t let him over to my house
He never held me tight and whispered words of comfort in my ear
In a trust fall gone wrong
And you caught me.