It's cold.
So.
So.
Cold.
It doesn't matter that the lake outside is frozen.
Or that there's snow covering the ground.
It could be in the middle of the hottest summer on record.
And it would still be cold.
I would still be cold.
Every time my mom's car drives past that flower shop my body freezes.
I am cold.
When I think about how the police officer believed your story and ignored mine, it feels like my throat has been sliced with an icy sword.
I am shivering.
Whenever my dreams take me back to that horrible place.
It feels like an avalanche fell onto my chest.
I am becoming numb.
When I remember the look in your eyes when you stared at my body like a hungry lion waiting for it's food, a chill goes down my spine.
I can't feel anything.
Whenever the ghostly feeling of your hands running up and down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Comes back.
I freeze.
I am frozen.
And I'm still waiting for someone to thaw me.
YOU ARE READING
He Broke Her.
PoezieThese are the poems from the mind of a girl who was broken by a boy. (These poems are about sexual assault if you are easily triggered please read with caution.)
