This is not for you.

This is not for you.
The image of the water running down my hair,
Feeling the heat transfer like the
Electricity of touch.
Something that we never care of.

This is not for you.
Me pressing my face so hard that the
Skin between fingers and jawline begins
Aching.
Wishing that it would all peel away,
I could see what was underneath and know that
It is not for you.

This is not for you
As I pull my own hair hard and feel my
Breath catch in my throat,
My fingers weaving their way through a
Part of me that has died to
Find the root and pull.

It is not for you,
My ease of tension,
My fear of being an emotionless figure
Forever set to repeat others words,
Unoriginal in reciprocation,
False and ingenuine.

None of this is for you
As I pull myself from the shower and
Back into the world,
Body the same,
Mind somehow different,
None of this is for you.
This is for me.

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