Hands

He put his hands around my throat

and choked me until I thought

my neck would break,

until I could no longer get another "no"

between pale lips,

until the back of my head pressed so far

into the pillow that my periphery disappeared,

replaced with stars that swam there instead

The alcohol had made me feel so warm before, 

but all I could feel was the cold sensation from the panic

His hand prints were purple,

and then blue,

and then green, 

and then finally yellow

Once the bruises were gone

I could breathe a little,

but every breath felt too big 

A couple years later

and the air still doesn't quite taste the same