Psycho-Cleanliness. Not a love poem.


Between her legs, his touch remains

She suffers, unable to forget

Begging for her innocence

Still he took her

Her mind vacant, save one thought

Raped, abused and left alone

It hurts so much already

Still she continues

The scalding water has run pink

She scrubs him from her skin

Lost in her memories, trying to forget

Still she cleans

Reddened skin, blistered and raw

She washes his scent from her

Broken and lost, her tears fall

Still she washes

Lemony-fresh bleach, bloody scrub pads

Never again. Promises to herself

Nothing left of where he once took her

Still she scrubs

Written in 11/18/2001

Edited/Reworked 09/20/2011

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