• Jason posted an update 2 years, 8 months ago

    Here in my bedroom-after-the-war mentality,

    I begin to undress

    Standing in front of the mirror, looking at myself looking, at myself, I feel all the places you’ve touched me; the places you’ve tempered with

    My skin has never felt so naked
    My soul has never felt so bare

    I’ve never been in better need of burning hot water
    pouring over me from head to toes
    steaming so hot it suffocates
    while I scrub any and all traces of your touch off of my body.

    Away from my weary memory.
    Out of my mind’s eye and endlessly down the drain
    where it won’t be remembered

    Where it won’t matter anymore
    Where I’ll never feel the remnants of that touch
    Where I’ll never feel embarrassment
    Where I’ll never feel shame

    In a room where an encapsulating towel dries the cleansing water off of me
    I will never be able to scrub hard enough to be free.

    I can shave myself from head to toe and let it grow back, born again into this life of mine
    but I will never be able to be not touched.

    No amount of pillowtalk will take this away from my past

    It is
    tricky
    to be alone.

    I now have this telling secret no towel can cover.

    My body was mine until I remembered.

    Now it is almost unrecognizable. Now my body belongs to a different time.

    My skin does not feel singularly mine.
    My soul does not feel singularly at home.

    My ulcer sharply cries out that I can’t ignore this pain

    But when you’re standing on the edge of a mountain high crevice, overlooking what you used to know, with a sudden shift in point of view, nothing is familiar.

    Once you see, you cannot be blind.
    Once you remember, you can never not be
    touched.