I still feel your touch,
oil slick on my skin.
Your breath-mildew,
rotting in.
Sand cuts my knees
like broken glass.
I stay still.
I let it pass.
You stay in the shadows,
same old game.
I wear your filth.
I taste your name.
I scrub til I bleed,
but it clings like tar.
There’s no clean.
Just the scar.
