Hopeless State Of Mind

Touch Pt3

It's a typical Thursday.
Sunlight kissing my eyelids
Good morning

Climbing out of bed
Making coffee
And putting music on.

I decorated myself
Like the walls of this home were decorated.
Photos, frames and bookshelves.
I hung a necklace around my neck.
Swept my hair back- just a normal Thursday.

I ended up at a gatho with friends.
At the end you asked if I needed a ride home
I said yes.
Because you've been to my place
Many times before.

I should have known
When you had started to confuse
Kind conversation with flirtation.

You said
Let your hair down
So I did.

Instead of driving me home
Towards the lights and life of the
Bright intersection.

You look a left to a quiet road that led
Nowhere.

Where are we going? I asked.
You asked if I wad afraid.

My voice had thrown itself over the edge of my throat
And landed at the bottom of my stomach
And hid for
Days,
Weeks,
Months.

All the different parts of my being
Turned all their lights off
They shut their blinds
And locked the doors.

While I had run up inside my head as
I hid at the back of an upstairs closet
Inside my
Twisted mind.
As someone broke into my house - you
Someone smashed my Windows - you
And kicked the front door in - you
took everything and then someone had taken me
- it was you.

You had dove into me with a knife and fork.
Your eyes sparkling with starvation
Like you hadn't eaten in weeks.

I was a fresh body of meat,
You had skinned and gutted with your
Dirty fingers
Like you were scraping the inside of a cantaloupe clean.

I screamed for my sister.
You nailed my wrists to the ground
And turned my breasts into bruised fruits.

My home was empty now.
From head to toe I was
Layered in dust
Fruit flies.
Webs.
Bugs.

Can someone call the plumber?
My stomach is backed up - I've been throwing up since.

Can someone call the electrician?
My eyes won't light up.

Someone call the cleaners
To wash me up
And hang me out to dry.

After you broke into my home,
It never truly felt like mine again.

I can't even let someone in without
Getting sick.
I've lost sleep
I've lost my appetite.
I've become more bone and less flesh.

Most nights my bedroom becomes a psych ward
Were panic attacks turn people
Into doctors to keep me calm.

Anyone who touches me - feels exactly like you
Their hands - you
Mouths - you
Up until they are no longer the ones
With me anymore - it's you.

-Rupi Kaur