Bathroom tiles

There's always going to be a piece of myself missing.

She's always gonna be gone.
Always missing.

It's funny, I'm dressed like a ghost
but I'm haunted by a real one.

the ghost of myself,
the ghost of my past,
the ghost of my trauma.

But my abuser is all too real.

She spent her time hiding in the bathroom,
crying and shaking.
Everything is too much,
its overwhelming.

and he's picking the lock,
trying to get in.

Taking the space away.

When I blink I see it all again.
Clattering to the floor,
crying,
screaming,
shaking.

There's a piece of me still lost,
still gone
never coming back.

I hid on the top roof of a parking garage,
because the bathroom was no longer safe.

Closest to the sky,
farthest from the ground.
Ready to leave it all behind.

a part of me wishes I did.

It's torture,
walking down the street
while a piece of me is still crying in the bathroom.

I lost that piece of me,
and she's not coming back.

I can't bring back that ghost.