i scrubbed myself raw
trying to wash away the imprints
of unwanted fingertips,
suffocated in silence
and soap suds
because i didn't want to know
if the phantom touch
i felt in the dark
was all in my head
or my fault
because of the way i dress.
YOU ARE READING
Catie's Journal
PoetryA safe space to store my poetry. They're not the best, but I like them...and maybe you'll feel the same way.
