Between Bruises & Blooms

You held up my skin
for strangers

like evidence.

Look.

See.

Here is the woman
who left me.

Here is her body.

Here is something
she once trusted me with.

Watch what I can do
when love
turns into entitlement.

Except you never said
those words.

Men like you rarely do.

You let the photographs
speak
while pretending
you were the one
with something
to prove.

And somewhere
behind another screen

I became spectacle.

Pixel.

Screenshot.

Something passed
between strangers
who had no idea
there was a woman
still living
inside that body.

A woman
who had once posed
because she felt beautiful.

Because she felt wanted.

Because she believed
the person receiving her
would understand
that intimacy
is borrowed,

never owned.

You held up my skin
for strangers.

But somehow
the naked thing
in that room

was you.