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The Thief



Your hands shake when he touches you, his fingers tracing chin, shoulder to your hip

It’s not supposed to be this way.

You’re not supposed to be fifteen years old and scared while he strips you of your clothing

Childhood crumpling on the floor layer by innocent layer

You’re not supposed to sit in the shower for hours afterwards

Eating soap and scrubbing your skin trying to forget where his hands were

Trying to sanitise

This great dirtiness you feel.

You’re not supposed to withdraw from your friends and family

Because you don’t know

how to look them in the eye without revealing your secret

Like it’s written across your forehead, darling it isn’t. Use your voice.

You’re not supposed to experience this

He was not supposed to steal that from you, but he did,

He broke the rules but now it’s your turn.

Steal it back, whatever he took, take it back,

your voice, your courage, your smile, the light in your eyes

HE is not the thief anymore, you are. Take what is yours and you use it as the fuel you need

to singe his hands and to burn anybody who tries to take anything from you

Ever again

You can do it

I promise.


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