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Elizabethanne Nov 16
These dreams come home to haunt me
I have lost count of all the nights
that I’ve had to crawl home
( hands and knees scraping against the cool pavement)
I have hid this life of love and war
Torn myself to pieces trying to the find the answer
( will I ever be good enough)
Held hands with people
I had no business loving


Welcome to my house of sorrow and salt  
My entrance fee is every single thing  
you have left in your bones
I want to love every single inch of you
and when that is not enough
I will drag my teeth across the years that separate us
And hope to God I find a reason for you to stay


- The years haven’t been kind to us
Elizabethanne Oct 20
His love was built like religion
Thousands of years in the making
(He burnt witches just because he could)
He strung up every girl that he once claimed he loved
( he called them liars and *******)
He swore consent like he was pledging allegiance
To his father and his father before him
( his brand of love built on a system of blind eyes)
We will try to take him to court
Try to show the people
( The bruises. The aching. The nightmares. The empty)
Tangible without a doubt proof
That he broke into us and stole things
But
He has been playing (and winning) this game
A lot longer than we’ve been fighting
His love was built like religion
So
Excuses are made
"Boys will be boys"
And we pray to a system
That has always been in his back pocket


- We will haunt this church of injustice until it is nothing more than a ghost story
Elizabethanne Oct 20
I loved him though
And I was through
I washed out every dark piece of him
Turned him into stained glass
So he would burn colours when the sun hit him
And people would see his beauty like I did
I turned him in a place of worship
Gave him power and turned him into something to be revered
He left when I was done
Told me that he needed someone who shinned just as bright
I had a broken heart
Beating with the disbelief of God
as I looked at myself
Full of cobwebs and broken windows
Because I spent so much time trying to fix him
I gave myself up
And I know that when fix the broken doors and cracked ceilings
turn my heart into stained glass
It will tell the story of this love
So the next person who comes in
Knows that
I will not lose myself to love them
Elizabethanne Oct 20
**** the heart
( or was it the hurt)
I need to borrow your spine
Mine is buried in my closet
I have fracture patterns etched into my skin
In the shape of your knuckles
the blue carpet in the living room is worn down
Two spots where my knees fit perfectly
Because praying to god felt a lot like having control back
**** the hurt
( or was it my heart)
The first time I wrote out your name
My hands shook so badly
Because I was always told names have power
And I wasn’t sure if I would survive you having anymore over me
I need to borrow your spine
Mine buried 6 feet deep
I have the taste of ash on my tongue
You lit everything on fire
And watched It burn and burn
when I woke up in the burnt out shell of house and body
I knew I only had three things left to do
**** the heart, **** the hurt, and bury the spine
Survive
Survive
Survive
Elizabethanne Jan 19
What would you do to get back their love?

I would destroy cities
I would collapse mountains
Let rivers run dry
Give them everything that they didn’t already have of me
( which is nothing. I gave it all)
It still wasn’t enough
They wanted to take my hurt too
( it’s the only thing I have left)
( it’s a broken bone I won’t ever let heal)
Tell me it wasn’t that bad
To think about the people who have hurt me,
( what about how they will feel? Won’t this hurt them)
( would they say that if they knew About everything . About all the things to ***** to see the sunlight )
(I love them . I forgave them . I love them )
But it doesn’t Erase the things that need to be said
So I can be better
What would you do to get back their love l?
Everything but give up the love I have for myself.

Sometimes there is no easy words for the hurt
And people always ask us to keep a secret like we are shameful for being here and wanting to be heard
Elizabethanne Nov 2018
Your secrets know their place
(next to mine. hers. ours)
Beneath floorboards
you can hear them at night
Haunting this house
Palms pressed against wood
late in the night
With your ear against the cool floor
You listen to them speak to you
Begging  to be let out
(they are always begging)
They want to breathe the same air as you again
But all you can do
is feel like you are choking
(god im gasping for air)
These words getting stuck In your throat
Sink to the bottom of this foundation
And regrow into a home where these secrets have no place to ruin.

-because secrets will rot this foundation
Elizabethanne Sep 2018
This is
“Don’t be a ******* child”
This is
“If you love me you’ll do this”
This is
“Dude she’s so drunk right now”
I never thought I would become
“Did you hear what happened to her”
This is
“That’s why you don’t wear skirts that short”
( drink that much. Lead him on. Go out alone)
This was
A cautionary tale against monsters
That prowl in the night
( only sometimes they wear)
( blue eyes. Blonde hair. Nice smiles.)
Maybe it should have been
“ what a tragedy “
Only it’s always
“ a tragedy”
Not
“Any everyday thing”
( common place)
Not an
“******* epidemic”
( everyone should be angry. Angry. Angry.)
( everyone has blind eyes)
Not
“Unacceptable the state things are in”
( it is just women. Plenty more where she came from)
this is **** culture
- This is to many ******* times
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