They say the first thing you begin to forget about someone is their voice.

 

Well, I still remember yours.

Your shy and bubbly laugh echoing in my ears,

The way you say certain words

And how your lips tilt a little to the left as you say them

 

I still see you sometimes.

Despite your efforts to hide your smile behind your hands,

That smile is seared into my memory,

With that small dimple right under the corner of your mouth.

 

Maybe it's just my eyes sore from all the crying

Maybe from one too many sleepless nights

Maybe they burn because everytime I close my eyes,

I see yours.

 

I’ve been avoiding the place I saw you last.

But what was the last thing you saw?

Was it his face?

his gun?

the blood?

your blood?

 

Was it the wall decorated by your innocence

or your pajamas laced with his greed?

 

I guess it really doesn’t matter what you saw

your eyes are closed now.

 

But darling, don’t you worry, no one will notice your torn and stained pajamas.

Your broken wrist and bruised chest will surely catch their attention.

 

Right?

 

And if not that then certainly they’d pay attention to your blossoming bullet wounds.

 

Wouldn’t they?

 

Darling don’t you worry,

These scars will tell your story.

 

Once their daggered tongues quit licking your salted wounds,

Once every last drop of your soul bleeds out,

Once your body stops crying its injustice,

Once it ceases to beg for safety,

 

That is when these empty craters on your beautiful, delicate skin will finally speak your truth.