anniversary.

the machine beeps rhythmically.
i can hear voices bouncing off the linoleum floor.
my head pounds and my vision blurs.
they wrap a bracelet around my wrist,
admitted: December 6th.

you push me against the door.
your lips pull at my heart,
your hands tear at my edges.
i'm too far gone to reach.
i'm in too deep to pull away.

my heart is racing.
i open my eyes to more needles.
she smooths back my hair and asks how i'm feeling.
i can't speak
and i turn away.

but i didn't turn away from him.
he pulls me down.
the room is spinning and i'm breathing fast.
i can see the pain in your face,
but i tell myself it's too late to stop this now.

my mind can forget.
I can pretend it never happened.
but my body reminds me,
of the pain in this anniversary.