2:45am
The last time I saw you was at 2:45am, hidden somewhere between the back of my eyelids and the sticky memories of candy flossed childhood.
The last time I saw you was somewhere on the path leading home. My breath quickened, my strides lengthened and my skirt seemed to have gotten shorter. My skin glowing brighter, yelling for you to touch it.
The last time I saw you was in an empty carriage snaking its way through the heart of London. And all of a sudden my thoughts seemed way too loud & my lungs way too big for my chest.
See, the first time I saw you was when your beady eyes feasted on my checkered play dress as a five year old. The first time I really saw you was when you lured me into the depths of a home that held so much joy & laughter but painted it with your vile thoughts. I see you in every man, every prince and every god that dares lay his eyes on me. And that’s why I wish the first time I saw you, was the last.

