The Kite Runner
Dirt under my fingernails.
Sand scouring my palms.
Sour breath on my neck.
Women’s voices behind the walls.
Mocking laughter grating on shredded nerves.
Sudden night, oppressively black,
Blinding me, heightening all else.
Your voice a lullaby…
Please, never know this…
Tucking me into bed,
Burying this pain.
Rough hands pulling me up, pulling out.
Tears on my face, washing away the night.
Clothes strange against my skin,
Blood seeping through them…
It won’t wash off, it won’t.
You, outside, inevitable as death.
Hold me. Nay, don’t.
Naught the same, naught unchanged.
Not you, nor I, nor us.
Forgive me.
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