I remember sitting on that hospital bed
A petrified 8 year old
With a broken, dislocated arm
It had started to heal itself
Only after a couple of hours
Then the man came in
Broke my arm in two
Put my arm in its place
But not without the cries
The earth shattering pain that
Scorched through all of my body

Now I’m sitting here
No broken bones
But broken nonetheless
You are my wound
You are the fracture
I heal
Slowly, I let it fade
I put the pictures away
I stop playing the songs that once danced in our ears
I avoid the places we spent our days together

Then the man comes in
But this time he comes in the form of two syllables, your name
He comes in the radio
He comes in a question or a phrase
He comes in the form of a bike ride down an empty lane

The man snaps my wound mercilessly
This will help it heal properly he says
It will make you feel better in the long run he says
But I can’t hear him over the pain I feel swimming around me
I can’t focus on that distant sound when the flames of the sun, burn in my very own flesh

So here I am sitting
A petrified 8 year old girl again
I’m not scared of broken bones now or clunky casts
I’m scared of the memory of you
I’m scared of the power you have over me.
The man walks in and I shiver because
I know what he’s here to do.