DEATH Poem: EMDR THERAPY, by Juno Williams

i’ve sat, racked my head
figuring out what version of you
I made up, and what was real.
what was tangible, not fantasy.

was it the blood on my lips,
bruises spattered on the ground?
or the flowers that appeared in my room
neatly organised, each one with its own story?

I remember your laugh.
your crooked smile,
sometimes I swear I can
still smell the shampoo you used

I remember how safe you felt,
how scared you made me

I remember being compared to you
“you are just like him.”

even if I swore I never would be like you

“not until I kill myself too.”