Your fingers burned me
So when they asked me for proof
I lifted up my dress.
They dusted my thighs for
Fingerprints
Like they would a burglary.
They told me to explain again
What had happened.
I told them how you
Pried me open like
The doors of a
Closed convenience store
Gutted me like an
Abandoned house
Left me for dead like
A deer after the
Headlights
They said there was
Nothing
They could do
I told them how you
Emptied me like
An alcoholic at the bar
After years of sobriety
Stained me like
The glass windows
In your church
Broke me like
The mirrors you
Can't bare to look into
Anymore
Anymore
Anymore
I can't look in the mirror
Anymore
They asked me for proof
So I lifted up my dress
They dusted my thighs
For fingerprints
I swear were there
I see them
The third degree burns
Covering my legs
My neck
My chest
I told them how
You made me into a
Museum of art
I don't want to be a part
Of
You made me into a
Museum of mosaics
And tragedies
And other broken things
I told them how
You made me into
Railroad tracks
That I lie on and
Wait for a train
That never comes
I told them about
the burns you kissed
into my skin
the blisters that
throb and
pulse
like the heartbeat
I used to have
They asked me for proof
So I lifted up my dress
For fingerprints I swear
Were there
They dusted my thighs
Like the crime scene
They were
Like the crime scene
They are
They asked me if
I had any other proof
I told them about the
Flashbacks
About how any hands
On me feel like your
Hands
About how you
Stripped me
Both physically
And mentally
About how I begged
You to stop
About how you didn’t stop
They said there was
Nothing
They could do
They said they were
Sorry
I said
Me too
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
being a girl means being dainty and innocent, means pure, means modest, means princess.
girl means legs crossed and church on Sunday's. girl means pepper spray and short skirts but not too short but not too long either. girl means ***** girl means chastity belt. girl means traveling in groups, means inferior, means less. girl means makeup and ******* and a sight for sore eyes. girl means girl is seen as object, seen as lingerie, seen as *** toy, only if girl looks good enough to be a *** toy, but even if she doesn't. girl means seen but not heard. girl means nice to look at, girl means nice to touch even when girl says no. girl says no means no, except when boy thinks no means yes. girl means what she says, except when girl doesn't, girl doesn't want you to ask, except when she does. girl is SO confusing, except when she's not. girl means no when girl says no, even when boy wishes girl says yes. girl means 1 in 4. girl means statistic, means unbelievable because if girl cries **** and nobody was around to see it, did it happen? girl wishes it didn't.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
they call it self harm like you are the one hurting yourself. I can tell you that six months ago I was not the one carving hate into my skin. but people don't want to hear that. people don't want to hear that my skin has been razor free for half a year because that would mean razors have touched it. I know this because I told my best friend about my hobby and they are not my best friend anymore. people only want to be friends with survivors. no one wants to be around long sleeves regardless of the weather. no one wants to be around a rain cloud on a sunny day. no one wants to go on a drive with you if you always end up at the same bridge. you have to learn how to be your own best friend. you have to learn to put the razor down. you have to learn how to love yourself. you have to learn that scars heal and people change. six months ago I did not know this. I've learned I've changed and so can you.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
suddenly my poems stopped rhyming and I stopped counting my stanzas
and suddenly you stop calling
suddenly the marks on my wrists aren't scars anymore, they're open wounds
suddenly the world is crumpling around me and I'm afraid to touch you I'm so afraid you'll slip right between my fingers
suddenly you're gone so fast I don't know if I just imagined you
suddenly they aren't 2 am thoughts anymore they are all the time thoughts
and suddenly all my poems aren't love poems anymore
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
You are not broken
and I don’t need to fix you,
always remember.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
I've never felt so at home,
as I did the day I met her.
For once I couldn't hear
the bickering of voices in my head,
and that's how I knew.
Home is wherever your demons
go mute, and the feeling of
her palm on mine is
a better silencer than
antidepressants ever were.
She makes me feel whole,
like the only reason my heart
is aching is because I
cannot possibly love her more.
She smiles at me like
there might actually be
something there to smile about.
When I am with her,
I forget that society did not
teach me to love this way.
Did not teach me that
sometimes love arrives
in a package tied with a pink bow.
And I could change all the pronouns
in my love poems to him,
if it would make others
more comfortable,
but it wouldn't change the truth.
The truth is that nothing
has ever came easy in life,
except for loving her.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
i. denial
you aren’t gone, no.
you’re going to come back to me.
you’re going to come back.
ii. anger
you promised you’d try;
but the second things got hard,
you didn't look back.
iii. bargaining
its not over yet.
we aren't unfixable.
we’ve come too far now.
iv. depression
i wasn’t enough.
you told me you’d always stay.
you’re not coming back.
v. acceptance
you were my first love,
the first to truly love me;
you won’t be the last.
pc
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
people tell me i have your eyes like its something i should be grateful for.
but when i look into your eyes i only see empty beer bottles,
body hunched over in prayer for forgiveness from all the wrong people.
your eyes are unapologetic but you are always saying sorry.
when i look into your eyes i only see bruised knuckles,
fingers not quite as broken as our family,
a house that was never quite a home.
your eyes are hungry and they devour me whenever they get the chance.
people tell me i have your eyes like its something i should be grateful for.
whose eyes do you see when you look into mine, dad?
who are you blaming when you tell me its my fault?
if i'm the mirror image of you, dad, you must be blaming yourself.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC