Flayed
I peel away your memory,
like flaying skin from bone.
It is not entirely painless.
I dig out the scent of your skin
from where it has collected under my fingernails.
I will ache in the morning,
it is a promise.
Tonight I will scrub and scrub
until my tender skin bleeds,
scrub away your touches, caresses,
and such.
I will draw your kisses from my lips,
like a deadly serum that kept me paralyzed for so long.
I no longer want your poison.
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