Tormenting Touch

By Harshita Gupta

After all this while,

perhaps it had a meaning.

Maybe a lesson

that it is my fault

that he saw me as the one

he could rule over,

that it is my fault

that I couldn’t outcry his uproar.

I still saw my body

with apprehension

after what he had done.

Even when alone, his touch lingers

like flung in an unkempt warehouse,

adulterated with the taint of his hands.

It all still seems

so surreal.

I was only left behind with scars

everywhere I was touched.

But now I know,

that they are constellation of stars

which saw me fall at night

and rise back up in daylight;

but now I know,

that they are my pride.

By Harshita Gupta