flinching

When I pick and rip my nails, it brings me closer to my father

But it also makes me wither

Trapped in a memory loop of abuse

An unwelcomed history lesson in shame

Echoes of my hated and broken body

The taste of soap in my mouth

I wish they would stop appearing in my dreams

When I wrap myself up in the tongue of tomorrow

It is nearly impossible not to recognize that I am not worthy of it's warm and gentle embrace

But rather the confining dance of its sandpaper like skin

Grating and crushing