there was a moment where i looked at you and all i saw was light.
when the thought of your presence initiated a rebellion within me:
only replicated by cookie dough ice cream in the winter or hot chocolate in the summer.
and then your hands, which i had no need to learn, roamed my body.
the way fire seethes through a house and eats away at the inside
before devouring the outer edge.
or maybe you did,
you had hollowed me out until only a shell was left.
the trust i had immediately handed you had washed away as quickly as it had been created.
as if the shoreline had been devoured by the ocean during hightide.
i was swallowed whole.
and you pretended it didn’t happen.
although your performance had been oscar-worthy to others— i saw right through it.
just as you sawed right through me.
So I write this as a fuck you.
that shell has been gutted and remodeled.
against all odds and against your will she has fought and survived.
not only have I survived but she has grown.
the way I’ve remodeled this home it can no longer be hollow. scathed and burned by you and bruised by others
built back up by me.
i now drink hot chocolate without burning myself and indulge in my cookie dough ice cream without the chill of your hands.
I’ve reclaimed my life and you no longer own it.