Defiled

it has been a year, she whispered.
her hair was falling out in wisps, coating
her face in yet another
protective layer. the trees bent
to her, reaching out twig-hands to
glue the cracks in her back together.

i stood, crumpled halo in my hand,
waiting for her to tell me to leave, leave,
waiting for her to let me know
that she thinks i've already picked my side.

because there
is always a side.

i didn't know, i tell her, voice squashed
into a tinny replica, dripping with
regret, pain, emotions.
tell me, i ask, i beg, tell me his name.
let me hurt him like he hurt you.

there is a red stain on her shirt,
spreading like a small flower,
face tilted to the sun.
she doesn't notice, or maybe she doesn't
care –
but i know she cried.

the moonlight is like a face
in the dark, tonight, glaring at me
as i nurse a silly hope that she might
not tell me who to hurt.

her face turns, darkness shading over it
as if she were a drawing being
filled in with charcoal.
her eyes are like lace and butterflies
- as all the poets say –
but they are dampened with spider webs
of disgust.

he doesn't deserve a name, she spills, her
voice quivering like a newborn baby's
cry. he hurt me, and he liked it.

her hand, delicately made from china,
reaches to her wrist and she starts a
scratching game. nails like claws,
sketching half-moons into
her pale skin, and she smiles.

a jagged lightning bolt of pain severs
my heart in two. please stop, i ask.
please don't do that.

and instantly, her face is like an
angry angel, terrible beauty
marred by rage and hurt.
like you stopped when i asked?
she growls, distant tragedies playing
like nightmare lullabies in her
voice.

i almost fall, my knees jarred with
emotion, arms trembling with regret.
i almost smashed into the ground,
face lowered in shame,
but all i do is mumble a sorry.
i'm sorry.

sorry is pathetic, she tells me,
anger almost all gone, like the flame
from a candle flickering out.
now, she sounds weary.
never changes what happens, she says.

the wind tickles my cheek in
a caress of hatred.
she turns away, shaking.
the fear never fully goes away.

i'm sorry.