Ghosts of the Past

What scares me the most is not that he's back in town. It's not that he knows where I work. It's not the long walk to my car in the middle of the night. It's that when he walks by me, he laughs. He shows no remorse. He's not sorry. He doesn't regret it. He looks at me like he knows every inch of me that I hide under these many layers. And he does. Despite the darkness he came shrouded in. Despite my attempts to hold onto my clothes. Despite the fight I put up. He does. He's seen every inch of me, felt every inch of me. He's not sorry. He'll never be sorry. And he knows I could never prove a thing. You can see it when he looks at me. You can hear it in his laugh.