Bruises
on my thighs
the feeling of his hands,
grabbing on my clothes,
pulling on the zipper,
harming the body I took care of,
a body of my own.
Now that body,
no longer solitary,
caving more,
over the scars
afraid of what's below.
But not afraid to fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem