I used to see the world
in shades of black and blue.
Like the imprint of hands,
like the image of my bruised skin.
The flashes of pain,
behind my eyelids,
I shut my eyes as tightly
as you gripped my wrist.
Trying to block out the pain,
as you tugged me along.
My eyes were still ******* shut
when you slammed my head against
the picture frame, cracking
in tandem with my broken heart.
I remember hot breath on my neck,
"You're mine" is supposed to be endearing,
You love me
you love me
you loved me,
I will write until I can't remember you anymore. I will write out all the lies you told me until I no longer believe them.
I keep breaking myself into pieces
and giving them away.
I’ll fade away little by little,
becoming smaller every day.
I fix and fill
each little hole.
I cure them eventually, and
it doesn’t matter what they stole.
As long as they are happy,
who cares how I feel?
As long as they aren’t broken,
I’ll bear wounds that time won’t heal.
I thought my heart was dead.
That I couldn’t feel affection for anyone,
not after everything he had done to me.
But then you came into my life,
so suddenly, I couldn’t see it coming.
I didn’t expect to like you.
I told myself I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, care for you.
You aren’t mine.
I don’t even know if you’re interested.
But thank you for reviving a part of myself
I thought I’d never see again.
Even if this is only a crush,
I’m glad my first was on you.
words fill her up
in a way
people never could
easier to connect to written word
It’s getting bad again.
My skin is scratching, itching, burning.
I want to rake my nails down my wrist
just to relieve a little pressure.
It’s building up inside me.
I’m afraid that I’ll explode
and imbed shrapnel in those
who are closest to me.
I shy away
and leave myself alone.
Better to suffer in silence
than to make others worry.
I want to press a blade
deep into my hips.
To feel the blood bubbling up
and all my pressure-pain-panic
each drop that flows down my thigh.
Just like old times.
things I refuse to do again but haunt my mind
I used to think
that we were born empty
and someone else had to make us whole.
I used to believe
that he would complete me
not leave me empty and cold.
The boy stripped me
bare and took everything
from me just to fill himself.
I became nothing
but a shell of the girl that
I used to be, before he emptied me.
I used to think that
he loved me and he was doing
this to me out of care and devotion.
I was wrong to think,
to believe that he caged
me out of love and admiration.
and verbal abuse
felt like love to me.
He told me that
he was scared of losing me,
so he lost his mind when I didn't answer.
He loved me
too much to let me
do a n y t h i n g by myself.
If I didn't have him
I would end up alone,
who else could possibly want me?
each and every
lie that he told me.
-is it really abuse if he says he loves you?
sometimes abuse sneaks up on you and you convince yourself that you're the problem, not him.
I am jealous.
I am jealous of the way you easily change your faces.
They switch so quickly,
hardly anyone can keep up.
I am jealous.
I will admit it, the green monster building inside.
How do you live your life,
I am jealous and angered.
I wish I could be as selfish and cold hearted as you.
I wish I could rip the knife out of my back,
and stab you too.
I am jealous and heartbroken.
I cry out in pain, pain that you so ruthlessly inflicted.
You think only of yourself, trampling everything in your path.
I am jealous and done.
I am tired of trying and fighting, fighting for you.
I am done wishing that you will be a better person.
no one is left to root for you.