IF BOOKS COULD SPEAK, they’d
keep me safe more than you. I can
hang the words in the air like
stars to light my night, its pages
my blanket, warming me in stormy
flight. Its spine my bedazzled bed
posts, its jacket my quilt to keep.
I remember my father assaulting
my mother with words that shattered
the roof of our home that night.
My father, my supposed hero,
now a killer sauntering the earth,
able to demand dominion over us.
But you are not like my father.
You are everything like my father.
You destroyed me beyond repair,
assaulted me with words, like razor
sharp knives, lashing me open and
left me wondering if recovery is
I think of you as a tattoo crawling
on my skin to and from; the needle
has long left the terrains of my skin,
the blood has already dried but
your mark will remain…forever.
J. G. Elas is a writer and online content contributor and has authored an autobiographical book that narrates the life of an INFP in his early twenties. He blogs based on experiences and would highlight the fragility and tentativeness of some of the relationships he’s been in to.