His Crime

I used to carry with me all the scars
He forced upon
and covered up.
It’s like he’s proud of every slash he made
‘cause scars don’t burn when it’s not your cut.
I used to pity him
but if I’d go back in time
I’d cross his name and his crime
out of my mind,
he had no life
outside of wanting to be mine.
I’d go months, we didn’t speak.
I was reeling, but hours felt like weeks.
And now, I see him at one pm
‘cause his crime loves to dance in my head
because I can’t get rid of you.
Now I try to be polite
in hopes that I’ll forget his crime
so no one sees that this boy ruined me.
Now I’m building myself back.
I’m taking back all the time he had
And all he almost stripped away.