I have not been the self I know recently,
I've been stuck standing in the same place,
as life goes on by me.
When the lines blur,
they take a new shape,
of my pain, my innocence.
There I am, outside of me,
with him, he, and the other-
helplessly, watching.
I know it isn't current,
because I threw out that shirt two years ago,
it smelled
from him.

I can't shake this feeling,
no matter how hard I clean and scrub
and forget,
they will still be there.
Here. In, with, me.
In the black box they shoved me in,
never being able,
to move on
and forget
what I let them do to me