You can’t simply delete pictures from your brain....

You can’t simply delete pictures from your brain.
You can burn the physical photographs,
or simply tear them up and toss them in the garbage.

Memory doesn’t work that way.

I hate the way your face is burned into my thoughts.
I hate that you haunt my dreams,
causing me to wake with a start
and search my room for signs of intrusion
until I can calm myself enough to know
how far away you are from me
and that I’m safe, at least for now.

I see you arise from the deepest depths,
and I cringe, your sadistic smile a tattoo,
a brand that strikes me with fear.

But I’m tired of being afraid.

Your picture will always remain to remind me
of the mistake I made when I returned your gaze
that night, when I entered your bed the next,
when I drank with you, told you my deepest secrets
that you could only use against me.

I cared for you once,
I did.

But no more.

If you so choose to enter my life again,
I will push you out, though your face
will never disappear.

I would make myself hate you,
but to do so would be to sink to your level.

I can only hope that my face is burned inside you
to remind you of the feral beast
you really, truly are.