anthropophobia

rosaceas

"get inside! are you crazy? what the hell is wrong with you?"

harry hauls me up off the road

drags me

with his fingers

tight around my wrist.

if he tugs so hard all the way to wherever we are going,

i will wear purple bracelets

of bruises by nightfall.

"don't take me back," i cry

like a child running from the sky.

"i'm not going to,"

he says, and he swings open his front door

pulling me inside

reeling me away

behind walls

that are

closing

in.

i don't want to go home.

but i don't want to be here.

i don't want to be with him

but i don't want to be alone.

"your parents. i can't..."

there is no way i can speak to somebody today.

and yet i don't even think they are home

to hear me cry.

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