Between Bruises & Blooms

Don't fucking touch me.

Not after
you reached inside my head
like my memories
belonged to you.

Not after
you took something
I never offered.

Not after
you called it duty
and expected
that word
to make betrayal
hurt less.

You were supposed
to be safe.

That was the worst part.

You were familiar.

Childhood.

Home.

The person
who knew
who I was
before dragons,
before war,
before Xaden,
before everything
became blood
and secrets.

And still

you chose
what you believed
over what I told you.

You trusted rules
more than me.

So no—

you do not
get to reach for me
now.

You do not
get comfort.

You do not
get forgiveness
because you finally
understand
what you did.

Some boundaries
are built
after someone
has already
crossed too many.

Some anger
is simply
the body
remembering

I said no
in every way
except the words.

So hear them now.

Clearly.

Completely.

Don't.

Fucking.

Touch me.