i was standing at the tip of the stairway
on the tenth floor, of my old yet humble abode
the highest those cement could ever withstand
the bus stop opposite the street was packed
tiny people pushing trolleys of groceries, little children in their blue uniforms
teasing each other
as they walk home after school
the gentle monsoon breeze of June
blew through the withering trees, and tall scrapers
whispering don't do it
shutting them tight,
i squeezed the flood of tears piled up around the frames of my eyes
somehow hoping
the wind might wash away the taste of your fingers;
blow away the smell of your lips; bringing along with it these fondled memories
i showered, the sixth time today, yet i can still smell you
so dirty, these untrimmed nails aren't long enough,
to reach to the depths of your touch you left on me, it's still there,
in my flesh, in my meat you ate, in my fruits of my chest you caressed; unconsented
and in my soul you tore, bare to my feeble...