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claire-lewinski
claire-lewinski
American
I consistently wonder Who I would be, If he never touched me If he never forced his fingers Down my throat Locked his sweaty palm Around my neck And probed my body with his ***** There have been so many showers Struggling to wash away The perfect details of that night. The massive weight of his stomach Pinning me against the frame of the cot, The shock of how invasive Two fingers could be, The moist expression of orange juice and ***** Whispering, “This feels like a dream.” The immense fear. I wept into my friend’s arms the next day. “That’s the ****** part about being a woman.” Was all she had to say. I did not tell anyone else For years. I watched, as if in a glass cage; The echoes of my people being engrained into me "You wanted it. You just regretted having *** You are just searching for attention. You weren’t actually ***** I witnessed women accept the blame Of something that was done to them. I did not want to hear the verification That I was the one at fault. I forgot that I had value as a person. I forgot that I was more than just a body. I forgot myself. I remember afternoons Cradled against my father’s shot gun Never knowing what was pulling me away From pulling the trigger. Change seemed to swell slowly An unnoticeable growth Until it had built enough To crash me into the blunt realization: It was not my fault. It was not my fault That I was sexually assaulted By a twenty-two-year-old man When I was sixteen. It was his fault. It was Max’s fault. I still wonder who I would be, If no one woke me up that night. If his girlfriend had stayed. If his friend, Sleeping ten feet away, Had intervened. But now, I can look at myself and feel strength. The strength that pulled me away from death. The strength to face my vulnerability. The strength to move forward. The strength to love. The strength to be happy.
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Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 2:46 AM UTC
Me Too
I consistently wonder Who I would be, If he never touched me If he never forced his fingers Down my throat Locked his sweaty palm Around my neck And probed my body with his ***** There have been so many showers Struggling to wash away The perfect details of that night. The massive weight of his stomach Pinning me against the frame of the cot, The shock of how invasive Two fingers could be, The moist expression of orange juice and ***** Whispering, “This feels like a dream.” The immense fear. I wept into my friend’s arms the next day. “That’s the ****** part about being a woman.” Was all she had to say. I did not tell anyone else For years. I watched, as if in a glass cage; The echoes of my people being engrained into me "You wanted it. You just regretted having *** You are just searching for attention. You weren’t actually ***** I witnessed women accept the blame Of something that was done to them. I did not want to hear the verification That I was the one at fault. I forgot that I had value as a person. I forgot that I was more than just a body. I forgot myself. I remember afternoons Cradled against my father’s shot gun Never knowing what was pulling me away From pulling the trigger. Change seemed to swell slowly An unnoticeable growth Until it had built enough To crash me into the blunt realization: It was not my fault. It was not my fault That I was sexually assaulted By a twenty-two-year-old man When I was sixteen. It was his fault. It was Max’s fault. I still wonder who I would be, If no one woke me up that night. If his girlfriend had stayed. If his friend, Sleeping ten feet away, Had intervened. But now, I can look at myself and feel strength. The strength that pulled me away from death. The strength to face my vulnerability. The strength to move forward. The strength to love. The strength to be happy.
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67
He says he loves me He says that my smile glows of hope And laughter And wisdom He says that I have this glow in me That radiates out Embracing life He says I'm enough But he only sees my reflection And if he tried to skip a stone He would see the perfection Transform Create shapes not welcome Let him peak At the murky bottom Filled with treasure and trash All covered in slime My smile, Is crooked Has yellow spots and cavities And the only thing that it beams Is the breathe of my last catastrophe. He calls me wise. Only because he has never witnessed The mistakes I step into, The mistakes I give one more chance, The mistakes that haunt in every corner- Even the corner of my smile He says he looks me in the eyes and sees hope. I wonder where. For when I glance at them There is only emptiness, And despair, And the only thing I radiate Is a warning Do not tread that path To the one lake With the pretty reflection It is just a mask And though you may love a beautiful mask A mask is not enough But he says a mask can't mask everything A mask can't mask How I look up When I'm on the brink of tears As if the sun will wipe away my worries A mask can't mask How when a hand is outstretched My whole being is clasped around it A mask can't mask That light that shines out of you. Because, Darling, That light is too bright, For even all of your self doubt, Worries, And the world, To burn it out. And a mask can't mask And a skipping stone won't transform That I love you And because of him I think I can love me too.
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Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
Radiance
He says he loves me He says that my smile glows of hope And laughter And wisdom He says that I have this glow in me That radiates out Embracing life He says I'm enough But he only sees my reflection And if he tried to skip a stone He would see the perfection Transform Create shapes not welcome Let him peak At the murky bottom Filled with treasure and trash All covered in slime My smile, Is crooked Has yellow spots and cavities And the only thing that it beams Is the breathe of my last catastrophe. He calls me wise. Only because he has never witnessed The mistakes I step into, The mistakes I give one more chance, The mistakes that haunt in every corner- Even the corner of my smile He says he looks me in the eyes and sees hope. I wonder where. For when I glance at them There is only emptiness, And despair, And the only thing I radiate Is a warning Do not tread that path To the one lake With the pretty reflection It is just a mask And though you may love a beautiful mask A mask is not enough But he says a mask can't mask everything A mask can't mask How I look up When I'm on the brink of tears As if the sun will wipe away my worries A mask can't mask How when a hand is outstretched My whole being is clasped around it A mask can't mask That light that shines out of you. Because, Darling, That light is too bright, For even all of your self doubt, Worries, And the world, To burn it out. And a mask can't mask And a skipping stone won't transform That I love you And because of him I think I can love me too.
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64
First period is always the worst. After hours of perfect, statuesque silence I am poked, prodded, abused Why is he always so angry So hateful His fingers claw at me His feet collide into my legs And sometimes, He loses his temper all together And in a furious rage He hurtles me against the wall As if destroying a mere chair Will solve all problems Finally he leaves as second period begins And I am filled with blandness A person trying to blend Never lifting a finger or muttering a word It suffocates me with its nothingness I force myself to get lost in time But it always seems like eternity It's not at all like when she sits in me Sixth hour is always the best She comes in with a soft step Quietly settling herself in She seems solemn most days As if filled with disappointment I wish I could embrace her Let her know she is loved But I can't No chair can It's a shame, Next year, she'll be gone And all be left with pokes, prods, and unhappiness. I am just a chair after all.
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Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
The Chair
There was something about her That made memories linger But I remember her in bits How she fuddled with her fingers And how a glance from her Was like recieving a hug in an envelope There was a sparkle in her eyes Just a bit hope She had a sly smirk Whenever she schemed She found happiness where ever it lurked Even in the saddest dreams She saw how every detail is perfect Or so it seemed She was a complete mess And justified it When she confessed That chaos is beauty But lacked to see her own loveliness Her image was disproportionate She couldn't even fathom That the way her way of life Had so much value and passion It created an effect of inspiration To any one she spoke And she couldn't believe How much she meant to me I guess she just didn't know That there was something about her That made her glow.
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Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
Glow
I live in a strange world I call my own My subconscious artist fills in my soul Life is different, but it’s what I've known She creates smiles on faces and their demons too A contradicting realm that makes me whole I live in a strange world I call my own Her puppets clash and collide right on cue Casting herself as the commanding role Life is different, but it’s what I've known If only my subconscious and I knew That painting this life costs an awful toll I live in a strange world I call my own The picture I see makes my true rays few I become nothing more than what I stole Life is different, but it’s what I've known I crave to turn this canvas blank and new And fly away forever, hope would fix my soul I live in a strange world I call my own Life is a different, but it’s what I've known.
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Brimmed with Unwanted Art
Change always startles me It seems to always lurk In secret corners of life You'll only notice it If you search If you abruptly turn around And catch the reflection of your past Noticing all the new smudges And the clutter in the background Each memory taking up more space I remember when it was vacant. Just blank Slowly filled as life progressed Trading some items, Hiding others Each tweaking at your soul Making the reflection you see The reflection that startles me.
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
The Reflection of Change
It was one of those days Where even the sun seemed dim Suffocating air Filled the deafening silence Hideous beauty Covered faceless emotions As echoing whispers forcefully escaped And a truth was found hidden in a lie It was a line of hateful love That created the destruction Of a blessed sinner Who was filled with cruel innocence Unaware of the silent melodies Of dying life Swirling still inside her But since he was born dead Every day was one of those days Where even the sun seemed dim
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
An Almost Life
Out of billions I stand alone Watching the gift of smiles Float over my head I grasp for a hand But only catch air Others flooded with love Flee from my desert Only one lingers My hands flutter around him Searching for the perfect embrace But he evaporates And condenses far from me However, love blossoms from the distance He fears this passion For being drenched Doesn't belong with the dry But he nudges towards me nonetheless Radiance begins to overflow us Desert sand turns to glass And I am gone, Invisible to his eyes I guess it was just meant to be- That out of billions I stand alone.
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
The Consequences of a Desert
I've been having these dreams Where time was nonexistent Where the water kissed the shoreline There were no people No animals Only figures of happiness We weren't classified By how we looked But by how we laughed Where we were only half of something Searching our whole lives For that laugh That made us complete, That made our laugh louder That made a smile Brush upon our face Every mere thought of them I've been having dreams Where I became complete But I fell Into oblivion Into a different world Made of uneasiness and misery And for the longest time, I struggled For none of the cries Ever laugh or hinted a smile And then I realized- I would have to wake up To find that world of happiness To find my missing half To find you
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Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Finding Happiness
Put down your weapons Whether it be words of love Or a strangling glove There is no need for such felons. Take away your guard And let the people behold Your beautiful heart of gold In the end, it will be a reward Make your judgment be fair Allow the light to crack Just sick back And let the people stare. For in the end, Promises will be broken Your voice will be shaken But it will never get better if you just pretend
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Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
Getting Better