your hand runs up my thigh
i'm flushed
your hand feels under my shirt
i'm counting the seconds in my head
you unclasp my bra
i'm enveloped by goosebumps
you notice i'm nervous
i'm beyond nervous
you tell me everything's ok
i'm alone
you pick my cherry
i get nothing in return

Putting on dress after dress, makeup and hair.

Untill she finally sits down in the chair and realises her absolute despair.

That intense horror bleeding from her eyes and running down her neck, like sweat.

Her final disregard for ****** expressions that might make her appear less than attractive.

Glorified weeping and sulking so ugly and so heart wrenching.

The sweetest sniffs and gasps for air. Oh how she could drag it out for hours.

One last breath as she looks at herself in the mirror, washes her face, takes off the dress and puts it all back into her mother's closet.

Miss you.

You can’t stop smoking
I can
You can’t ignore ****
I can
You can’t avoid drinking
I can
You can’t stop shouting
I can
You can’t shut up complaining
I can
You won’t drop that gun
I will
You can’t help silence
I can
You survive with violence
I can’t
Toleration with independence
Seizing opportunities for peace
Let the wire choke your lungs out
Hell in front, war of apes
Animals in the streets, Grodds
Telepathic maniacs attacking blocks
Rappers in the venues spitting fires
On every head spreading contagion
Zombies alike, transformers of Lannesters

I wrote a f-cking poem for you.

You tell me how they broke your heart and how you wished for someone who would love all your broken parts.

You'd say "She treated me like dirt" followed by a shrug. Then you turn your back to me when I lean in for a hug?

I think you're in denial, my attempts are plain to see.

So now you won't remember all those hours in your room, where I let you break all over me?

You ungrateful little sh-t.

What about that time I covered you with blankets and let you make me sick?

Blah blah blah...

I imagine your eyes right now, rolling back. "Whatever Mel, boo hoo."

But I wrote a f-cking poem for you.

I know who I am.
I don’t need your label.
I don’t need your words.
I have my own.
Your voice like stones,
I can feel my bones wither.
You have nothing left so away you slither.
My reality is not lost,
I am only free.
Passed are the feelings abased;
I am freer than such a measly flea.
My skin freshly pierced,
I have felt pain that which you know no name.
Returned am I.
Reborn am I.
Lasting through the past that left me to cry.
A past where I would rather die.
Your stones may have sunk my body that was something more of a pseudonym
but my dear,
I’ve always known how to swim.

With brick dust on my back,
And my chin in the air,

I had the sun in my eyes,
And you weren’t fighting fair,

It was a war of attrition,
12 years or 12 rounds,

The battle already lost,
But the bell never sounds,

So I stay on my toes,
Keep sharp, stick and move,

Feel that chip on my shoulder
I have something to prove,

The sweet taste of copper,
Blood dried out like rust,

Only me in my corner,
The only person I trust,

So I swing for the fences,
But prepare for the fall,

For you truly earn nothing,
Without risking it all.