The memory of you may fade someday, just as the scars on my body. Equally the pain you left behind may never be seen to the naked eye, but you don't need a microscope to decipher the origin of my torture.

The moment I decided to begin to forget you, my body began to fight back. Attempting a last ditch effort to stay committed to you. It continued to taunt me. Reminding me time and time again that resisting the urge to love you was an ugly futile effort that most likely acted as the key factor to my demise.

You are a part of me. No matter how much I fight it. You moulded me into something so vile and vindictive, yet so passionate and loving.

In breaking me, you taught me how to love. And what to avoid. And how to reject someone.

This is brainwash I'm spewing. I still believe that who you made me to be is actually someone I need to be. Consequently I'm lost whenever you are around because without you I cannot function.

My thoughts are tirades. My emotions are garbage. You might as well give me a name tag that says Oscar because day by simple little day I still wallow in the filth you created through the mind games and the mental torture.

You abused my gullible delicate soul. My fragile heart couldn't bare to watch me suffer so I broke off a part of it and left it behind as a parting gift. For you and only you.

How ****** up must I have been to deem you the only recipient of my good byes. I was only dishing out what you wanted hear... What you trained me to do.

I may have gotten rid of you, but what you left behind were the unbearable scars of your love.

I can't breath through the PTSD.
I can't breath through the foggy memory of your love.

I loved you, but you broke me.

Your love is a torture that I don't have the luxury of abandoning.

You bled me dry. Every fiber belongs to you.

To this day, I still strive to please you.

That is the sick truth of our love.

A drop of alcohol
Slips down my throat,
Giving me life
Helping me to float.
Heavy amber liquid
Resting on my lips
And crimson drops of blood
Drawing lines around my hips.
Oh how did you
Know my vice?
'Cause now I'm empty inside,
Though you're acting so nice.
No matter what you do,
Your face I'll always hate
Because you got me drunk and what
Happened next you still won't say is ****.

Sobs echo
Through warm thick air,
Tears falling on
Tangled ****** locks of hair.
She curls in a corner
Beneath the stairs,
Alone and cold
With an awful story to share.
She has never ever said
That life was even a little bit fair
Because for her whole life,
No one has been there to care.
Nobody helped her repair
Her mind when her senses
Became hopelessly ensnared
In the lies he told her,
The oaths her made her swear.
And she hadn't a friend to make her
See danger when she was unaware.
He grinned his drunken smile
As he sat in a chair
Made of her tears
And her worries and prayers
Because in her life,
There is nobody there.

this body aches
from my mother's house
from the lack of nutrition
from the fresh burns
but i promised I'd stop
but I promised
but you aren't here to stop me.
I'll smoke as much **** as I need to.
and fantasize about the intelligent, soft-spoken
well-worded
perfect everything
he likes my poetry, and says it reminds
him
of Simon Armitage

when i was younger,
i was taught
that **** was
always
a man in an alleyway
or a drunken night out
gone desperately wrong.

i was taught
to always carry
pepper spray
and to always cover up
incase a boy took it the wrong way.

i was taught
that i am safe with a girl,
even if some higher being condemns it,
because they are not capable
of being monsters.

i was never taught this could happen to me.

i was never taught
that maybe
just maybe
**** is
a sober sunday afternoon
with your girlfriend
that just went desperately wrong.

i was never taught
that "no"
was still an acceptable answer
to the one
you were supposed to love.

i was never taught
that getting out was a good idea,
even with her threats of suicide
and the razorblades on her windowsill.

i was never taught
that i am more
than just my abuser.

She stopped breaking laws when she
started breaking hearts

Bottled tears in the vial around her neck
She lays in bed like a spider in their web

They say curiosity killed the cat but in this story
Curiosity killed you

And you love kissing her because she is not like the others
She does not pull away out of shame

She kisses hard like brick on brick on window pane
no face aflame

And you love ******* her because she does not hide away
Begs you more more more

She stopped breaking laws when she
Started breaking hearts

She wanted him.

Of course she did, they were drunk and he had his hand up her skirt
But she didn't want him in the bar bathroom

She wanted him in her bed
Completely naked, physically and emotionally
With sunlight pouring through the window

She didn't want to be bent over holding the wall up with eyes closed
She wanted to be so deep in his eyes that it truly felt like they were one

She didn't want to be ******* for an ******
She wanted to meander and explore and be fascinated

She wanted to be so in tune with him that when he opened himself to her she got to appreciate every beautiful
and even ugly molecule of it.