The burning flames of pain lick at my scorched and fragile soul, I fear that one more heartbreak will leave it crumbling into ashes.

My heart welcomes despair with open arms, he tells me all the things I don't want to hear.
Tells me all the truths I run from during the day, but I cannot escape them as the sun goes down.

They scrape at me, scratching incessantly at my delicate soul, they coat me with their words, their bitter carefully selected truth that I cannot tune out.

Death becomes more appealing, why should I not end my suffering and give in to the sweet caress of misery?
Giving up has never seemed more alluring than it does at 2 am. It seduces me with promises of peace and silence.

Silence from the voices that are constantly screaming at me. I cannot drown them out, their echoes are deafening in my ears. Haunting, they are all I can hear.

Despair is my constant companion, whispering in my ear. Hope helps me tune him out and quiet the hurting. Hope continues to save me, hope is all that I can cling to when the world gets too dark to pretend that I am normal.

I will never be normal, I do not know how to be happy. My self hate chokes me, the pressure of being alive is a constant weight on my chest. I will never escape this.

But hope is there to soothe me, telling me all will be okay even if I know deep down I will not be. Hope chases away the attraction of death, for one more day.
I fear for the day that death becomes too enticing to ignore,
for now hope drives it away, leaving the dull aching and the desperate wanting to be gone.

black skirt climbing up her shining thighs…
she pulls it down and the excitement dies

from the men around her: “****, she’s fine!”
looking up from her phone- she’s next in line.

“may i see your id?” asks the giant,
she shows it to him- acting compliant.

female, black hair, brown eyes, twenty-one.
everything checks out- “stay safe, have fun.”

once she steps through those guarded doors,
she puts her pvc plastic back inside her michael kors.

no ‘x’ on her hand, but an ex on her mind-
she steps onto the dance floor and begins to grind.

many men manage to embrace her swaying hips,
bite her beautiful neck, and kiss her thirsty lips.

from their mouths flows a river of lies,
while hands below swim up sweating thighs.

she’s feeling ecstatic, but he wants more,
her “friends” watch as he carries her out the door.

to say “yes,” she’s in no position,
so he advances without a proposition.

the next morning when she wakes,
in funny places her body aches.

next to her he’s fast asleep,
her phone rings: bleep, bleep!

texts from her “friends” fill her screen-
things they typed, they did not mean.

“we’re worried…  where are you? text me the address!”
she gathers her things and pulls down her black dress.

tiptoeing through his apartment, she quietly closes the door.
she’s quiet in the car still, afraid of being called a “*****.”

when they asked her to come out that night, she said: “i don’t like partying anymore.”