Trauma

i still think of you sometimes.
you weren’t
healthy
i think
i think you were broken
i think your household was broken
still
you were terrible to me
and that’s not an excuse

you did it to
my best friend as well
(the one after
you discarded me)
(you didn’t even tell
it to me yourself)
what you did was
twisted
and
i hate you for it
i hate that
i couldn’t tell my mom
why i didn’t want to
talk to you
anymore

we’ve both moved since then
but i still can’t look
at the house you lived in
for too long
when i come back
for the summer
in four years
every cell in my body
will be replaced
from the child
you last saw
and i will be
someone you’ve never
touched