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Samara Jul 2017
When I was young I promised myself that when I grew up and got hot,
If I ever got cat-called, I would react.
I would scream,
Kick the bumper of their car,
Throw my overpriced drink in their face,
Be angry be ******,
Take no **** from anyone who dared to look at me.

I grew up.
I'm not hot,
I'm okay enough to look at,
Okay enough to earn the attention of two middle aged children in a ****** silver four door car.
I promised myself
I would react.

I froze.
Took another faulty step
Felt my ankle struggle under the weight
The ends of my pants brushing my toes
Blood rising to my face.
Not a blush.
I was not flattered.
An inferno.
My mind in flames.
The heat trapped by my mouth
Glued shut by $20 lipstick from a brand owned by someone who hates what I am.

Didn't I promise myself?
I didn't react.
Hardly moved a muscle.
Too slow to even furrow my manicured eyebrows in rage.

I know now
That the world will always be cruel.
And the world will always think I'm
Hot
Beautiful
****
Cute
Attractive

So what good is having my own pretty face
When everyone else thinks that it's theirs?
Nobody will ever own me
Not even myself.
Samara Jul 2017
Don't leave.
I'm tired, I just wanted to lie in bed and know that you're next to me.
You left.
I'm alone, I might as well always be.
The only company is my aching bones and my fractured heart.
I don't know why I was built this way.
Broken from the start, doomed from my first labored breath.
But all I have is this curse,
This constant overwhelming feeling of
a l o n e.
I feel less alone with you.
More alone with them.
But it's always somewhere,
The feeling with claws
Used to climb up my throat
Slice into and manipulate my vocal cords.
"Don't leave."
I'll be fine alone, maybe I should be.
But the feeling's teeth and claws are too deep into my flesh.
I need you.
And the feeling says that you don't need me.
Samara Jun 2017
You walked in.
Shocked of course,
What mother wouldn't be?
Even a step mother at that.

But still, you left.
Closed the door behind you
After you shook my hand
"My name is Sam"
"Nice to meet you."

I wish you had said something.
Said you don't allow ****** in your house.
Told me to get out and never come back.
Forbade him to ever see me again.
Screamed at him for bringing me here.
But you didn't. You just, left.

Didn't you see?

See the way I jumped across the room
The first moment his grip on my arm slacked.
How his calloused fingers dug into my wrist.
The tears, brimming in my black lined eyes.
How my muscles, barely there, strained to pull away.
"Don't make me do that don't make me do that don't make me do that."

I just wanted to go home

Didn't you see?
This is a very personal piece to me. I was sexually assaulted by an ex boyfriend about two years ago and recently I have started having nightmares about it again. One nightmare is the first time he assaulted me and his step mother caught "us".  This is the telling of that through my eyes.
Samara May 2017
it isn't fair
i loved too fiercely
you loved too openly
and I'm the one who was cast out
left alone to burn
my heart a supernova
too many galaxies away
for anyone to see
for anyone to care about
you remain content
protected
lovable
it wasn't your fault

somehow i feel like it was mine
i dont know who I'm talking to
i blame all of you
i blame you for being selfish
i blame you for being weak
i blame you for being the victim
i blame myself for caring about any of you

i make myself the victim every time
but i cared
i shut them out
it was their fault
but you made it mine
in some twisted part of your psyche
i was to blame
his infidelity became my uncaring
my sensitivity
my loneliness
my craving for anyone to love
became his controlling nature
maple roots wrapping around
the stones tied to our feet

we’re both sinking
we’re both alone
somehow more watched than ever
and i don't know what happens inside your
mind
and i don’t
mind
not knowing
it leaves me room to imagine
you feeling as alone as i do
you feeling more broken than i ever can

i dont know if you deserve it

i hope i don't
Samara Jan 2017
I want to know.
Tell me what she felt like under your hands,
How soft and beautiful her hair was
how she melted under your touch.
Tell me about the times she tangled her fingers in your hair,
how she made you shake with pleasure.
when her mouth tasted like strawberry rolling papers
and her cherry stem knotted tongue knew you better than I

you tell me,
how you thought you loved her
come clean a coward and admit you still do.
place holders are beautiful and exciting,
strange and adventurous and named Sam.
place holders are extremes of the dreamers you miss,
the green haired, permanently marked in every way
the ******* disgusting, used, begging for attention.

Don’t say it.
tell me she is nothing compared to my beauty
she is a waste. do not tear her down
to hold me to the standard I crave.
how will you speak of me once you've left?
how will my flaws be shaped into the pedestal
for your next obsession to be held upon
she will fall and shatter, her insides spilled over your floor.
you won’t have me to clean the stains.

— The End —