Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2018 Cronedrome
Lily X
And it falls out from me.
Pours from my fingertips.
Grief floods the room but I’ve been drowning for a long time.
I cannot contain this.

It’s a fog like carbon monoxide.
Silent.
It wraps itself around your lungs and whispers that this is the only way.
And you lie down, mistaking its vapours for clouds.

It never leaves.
You just get used to breathing poison.
Metal skeleton, pretty lights
Frozen breaths sit still
Circular motion, hazy nights
Silent minds sound a siren
Swooping lows, soaring highs
We've lost our balance again
Mechanic cogs, wailing cries
The fair ground is eternal
We are all silhouettes
Wrapped in the tapestry
Of a blooming night
Outlines etched messily
Into a cotton wool sky
Beautifully imperfect
A stray wisp illuminates
Sings sweet like our
Honey bee laughs
We smile, always
Endlessly sunshine yellow
For here we are youth
Wild like dandelions
Rebelling against being
A common flower
We paint the word ****
In shining glitter
Send it to outer space in
A paper airplane
Then dance on crazily
Like the night is infinite
Dreaming for a forever
Something a bit different
 Oct 2018 Cronedrome
Elisabeth
She is brutal.

She will tear my skin,

Bruise my knees,

And blacken my eyes.



But she is also a gentle dove

And she can be kind.

When I succeed she gives me sweets

And gives back my missing pieces.



She is my mistress.

Her’s is the name on my collar,

She has the lead.

And she keeps control until she hands me off to him.



Though I know him not,

He will heal my body.

Let me have the control,

And finally give me peace.
 Oct 2018 Cronedrome
Elisabeth
you
 Oct 2018 Cronedrome
Elisabeth
you
One negative word paired with your name and I know I will never breathe properly again

You will poke holes in each of my lungs until with every exhale I am whimpering your scent  

You will staple my lips shut and rip them out when I am willing to moan your name

Squeeze my heart with your calloused palms until it only beats for you  

You will shock my system with jumper cables until you are the only thing I find electric  

Cut off my toes and break my feet so that I can never leave you

You will bound my fingers with sewing needles until I am willing to sign myself away to you

And finally, if I ever get away, you will excavate my brain, so I can never truly leave
 Oct 2018 Cronedrome
Megan
My therapist used to say that
I get the flashbacks because
I don't talk about it enough.

But how am I supposed to talk about it
when everyone tells me that my story has been made invalid
by the alcohol in my bloodstream,
and the fact that I laughed about it the next day?

We all have different ways to survive.

How was I supposed to process my emotions the morning after
when I had blood dripping down my legs,
standing in the 6am cold,
because shivering outside without a jacket
was far better than staying in a room with one of my rapists,
and the lingering smell of shame?

I am far too young to feel a pain like this.

A pain so heavy that my entire soul is flattened
by the weight I carry around.

A violation so evil
that I cannot help but leave my body -
it is no longer mine
but a vessel
that carries the blackness of my ache,
my thoughts that turn to ash when I try to say them out loud
and the demons that have possessed me.

Demons born from the three of you.

How can I continue
when I can still feel three pairs of unwanted hands,
      gripping,                                           ­         
hitting,                                        
bruising me                    
all at once?

How can I breathe
when I can still feel six eyes
on the most intimate parts of me,
every vulnerability and weakness?

How can I live
when I still have pieces of you
entangling yourselves around my bones,
suffocating my heart?

I thought that by burying it all deep into myself -
every 'it' that you called me,
every bruise left on my skin,
every single ****** that tore me apart -
encased by my ribcage,
wrapped in skin that you made into paper,
I would be able to carry on.

I created my very own Pandora's box.

But you escaped;
every millilitre of your venom
is combined and coursing through my veins,
poisoning each one of my nerve endings.

I no longer see the same version of myself,
like looking in a broken mirror,
each fragment showing a different flaw, a different shame.
I am not me.

I am full of darkness.
My mind is sick,
I am filled to the brim with hate and anger and inescapable sadness.
You made me into a monster
that leaves fingerprints of acid on everything I touch.

Is there anything worse
than seeing six vitriolic eyes
everywhere I go?

Is there anything worse
than your visits to me when I sleep,
waking up drenched in sweat because of the horror?

Is there anything worse
than feeling a constant lump of anxiety in my throat,
whenever I'm left alone? -
because please
please
please don't feed me to the wolves again!

Is there anything worse
than starving myself because
no-one will ever love me unless I'm thin because
I'm too riddled with trauma?

Is there anything worse
than blaming myself so much
that I started hurting myself again?

No-one ever tells you that trauma lasts forever,
but I'm learning that now.
Because it's been ten months and twenty-two days since
the three of you destroyed me...

And you've been destroying me every day since.
If you've read this to the end, THIS is the destruction caused by **** - stop injustice anywhere you can
 Oct 2018 Cronedrome
Catalina
In between nitrous gas
And passive aggressive small talk,

"Its too bad about your teeth"
He said.

"You got a good face, bad mouth"

And I'm really laughing now.

Daddy's been screamin that my whole life.
I breathe every second to stay alive
fill my lungs with air
not you.
Next page