LESS IS MORE.

A GIRL'S THOUGHTS AND FEELING AFTER AN ABUSIVE EVENT

It will be there always.

She takes a drag
on her cigarette.

Wants to forget.

Feels it in her throat,
lungs easing her.

An internal massage
from smoke.

His outer massage
made her cringe.

Fingers fingering.

His eyes dark pools
of lust and want.

She exhales smoke.

Watches it flow
from her mouth
and nose and float
in the dank air.

She stands there.

Thoughts of it
are always there,
even in sleep,
she cannot forget.

Fingers alien to her
touching, feels them,
not warm, not cold,
but unwelcome
like wintry chill.

The cigarette hangs
between two fingers,
smoke rising.

Her voice protested,
but nothing came,
not words, no sense
of being, utterances
like baby sounds.

Not distinct.

Not stopping him.

It will always be there.

The touches,
the sense of helplessness,
of being less free.

Less being.

Less.