you would recoil in horror
at the mere thought
of crushing a cockroach
you would not even
kill an ant, no
then you
stabbed me repeatedly
until I had to hold my insides in
with my hands and fight
for air
my body remembers
being your punching bag
your mattress
your safe space
your well
the place from which
you would fill yourself -
and pour it all out
on someone else.
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