Every place he touched me,
Saturated my skin with ink.
He left a road map of his injustice,
Like a blotted newspaper for the world to see,
Damaged Goods- Half Price.
I was playing in dirt and mire,
Till the grains stuck under my finger nails,
Til mud matted in my hair,
Till I gasped through mucky lungs.
I crawled around,
Ribs poking through my skin,
Shoving grass into my mouth,
To feed my stomach,
Because nothing ever is enough.
But when your dark eyes look at me,
You pierce through it all.
I feel my heart revealed,
In your gaze,
Past the inky black finger prints,
Past the dirt and deception,
Past the walls and defense mechanism,
Past the lies and the loathing,
You see the treasure inside of me.
Rest your hand on my neck,
And every muscle I was using to be strong,
To protect myself,
To be safe,
Collapses in your touch.
Because I don’t have to be strong anymore.
I don’t have to fight to be protected.
I can be weak.
A dove in your hands.
Because you love me gently,
Because to you, I am precious.