a silence filled with pain, soft like sighs
2003-08-05
3:11 p.m.
I imagine your scars.
I imagine your scars on top of my scars--the weight of the tissue presses me against rawness, and I weep for us.
Your story is so different from mine. Yet, we are here now.
I know you couldn't see me, but I flinched when you told me last night and shut my eyes tight against my own rapist, though it was yours I felt--all of them, smothering me at once.
But you went to the greenhouse today. And I went to work. We must remember that.