written: july 9, 2020 (end of year 1)

the cells in my body that existed alongside you
will be dead and gone six years from today.
this mortal shell will no longer remember
how your touch felt like acidic decay.

cells die and regenerate
allegedly every seven years.
one day, this skin
will have never felt the spilt tears.

every reason i cried in the last 365 days
was derived from you.
every action, every thought, every fleeting whim
was inspired by the despicable things that you do.

but one day i'll remember
why i told my body to forget.
because while the memories will be forgotten by my skin,
it's something that my mind will always regret.

but for now that doesn't matter;
i'm happy to just be alive.
despite my efforts, i'm still here, and i'm still breathing,
no matter how hard i tried.

this is a survivor's cry:
it sounds like anger and pain.
if people were weather,
you were a hailstorm, but i'm an entire hurricane.

you brought about chaos
that uprooted my life.
you hurt and destroyed and plundered,
and even a glimpse of your eyes cut like a knife.

but i bring the storm,
the eternal winds and rain.
i grow stronger over time;
where you fall, i only gain.

so here's my oath to the moon and the stars
and other celestial beings that scream out my name:
you deserve every heartache this world has to offer,
and even then you won't fully understand my pain.

my eternally unspoken word
will be shouted by the sky.
when i look back, my last day
will no longer be the ninth of july.

six years from today,
my body will be completely new.
my memories might stay the same,
but not a single cell will remember you.

-this is a prayer and an oath and a chant and a war cry; let it fall from your lips and descend upon the unholy.