This way

and in this way
I will rid myself of everything you have touched
much like my skin
which produces new cells
but me
how I love to speed up the process
tear it open and let it breathe fresh air
peel myself
over
and
over
and
over
but my hair
is not renewed
is just timeline
runs passed my shoulders
and I wonder
when was the last time your finger tips felt these roots?
Tried to pry them out of me?
It was not yesterday
or the day before that
or the day before that
or the day before that
so I measure
note the closest you’ve come to me is this jaw line
border between body and mind
between silence and screaming
guard of the entry to this voice box
how I’ll cut you away
and how fortunate
that there is not enough of you to hand over to another
your touch will only hit her floor
get mixed with others’ pasts
and I’ll run my hands through fresh strands
know fresh starts only mean endings
and endings
sometimes take the sharpest of tools.