Today

Beneath where my heart and soul connects.. there's your face. Smirking. Smiling even. I am filled with disgust. I feel guilty. I loathe shame yet that's all I know. You knew me young. My fault... it was my fault, right?  I wore my shorts too short, I wore my hair too long. This is what you sketched in my mind as you braided together my ideas of what a man was and pulled tighly back. I have a headache. My soul died somewhere in the backwoods of Louisiana, along the bayou you threaten to pushed me in as kids. I was seven.