she orbits her world like a satellite,

never quite able to be pulled

into its fortuitous center.

an idyllic childlike twinkle

once resided in her eyes. she is kind.

she is kind even when her smile

is taken advantage of.

for years, she roamed

fields of green and meadows

of yellow, longing for tomorrow,

for today was what she despised.

she strived to evoke love,

not chides, from those around her.

when she looks back on her life,

she feels ever so slightly removed

from the memories she knows

should be uniquely her own.

she was naive in those times,

naive in all her years

prior to him.

derealization became her priority,

for the man that she idolized

would be the very person

who immobilized her childhood.

paralyzed in the thwarting wake

of time, she became

a passive observer

of the friends who passed

her by, of the lies she used

as a disguise, of the body

that was supposedly hers.

did you know that you can violate

a satellite? you can throw it

face first into the knife, into your hands.

you can choke it until it’s convinced

that it is dead, then resurrect it

and violate it again.

you can violate a satellite

because she doesn’t know she’s

a satellite. she thinks she’s a body.

satellites carry the scars

of weather and time, they orbit

so they can stay inside their mind.

did you know that you can kill a satellite?

if you violate it enough, you will become

its parasite. you can drain it of blood

and of agency

until it is your clay to mold.

he killed her when he made her his own.

his to violate, his to kill, his to hold

a knife to throat.

you can kill a satellite,

or you can spare it,

so it continues to rely on you to stay alive.

to kill her would’ve been more humane.

she is a satellite because he drained

her of her childlike whimsy, of her smile,

and of the twinkle in her eyes—

but she is still kind.

she knows that kindness

never gravitates towards centers,

yet to live

at the periphery of her life

makes her a thankful little satellite.

to live with that deprived child

still inside of her, and to do right

by it each day with kindness

is what she vowed

when she escaped the knife.

and in spite of him,

she orbits. she breathes.

she smiles.