Your hands swallow my stomach

And I stop breathing

I can’t feel my hands

His or mine?

Heart racing, gut paralyzing —what’s next

Hands: mouth, head, chest

Not mine

You are on top of me

Even though I said

No

Stop

Please

Stop

No.

I can’t feel my hands rest on my stomach

It’s a war zone there

Open wounds, blood pouring, infectious

There, it’s diseased.

Do not touch it

Stop

No

Please.

I’ve lost track of safety

Of boundaries

Of reality.

But

FUCK YOU

I will let it all pour out

And find the safety

You stole

Has multiplied into something

Greater than I even knew

Existed.

I just had

To feel

My hands again.

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