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Everytime I see you
I feel my smile FADE

I know when I see you
It's another ******* day

I don't understand it
Why you always complicate
The simplest of tasks always becomes a rubix cube of play

I'm starting to feel pre-annoyance everyday
Before I even clock into work I know your gonna **** me off

Everytime I see you
I feel my smile fade

I'm getting so sick of coming in everyday
Work frustrations
No, it's not good enough.
To not be known by my own name,
To only be labeled as "your girl",

I contest,
To not have my own freedom,
To have my wings clipped by your need to control,
To not be able to grow or fly,
Tied down by your own insecurities,

No, it's not enough,
To only be an extension of you,
To not have my own friends my own life aside from you,

I detest,
That I bend and kneel to your every whim,
That I am reduced to begging for such simple requests and made to feel like I am asking for 'too much',
Yet, my body has been only a temple baring the scars of our child's labor,
My own dreams dead only to be an extension of YOU,

BUT WHO AM I?
When there is no you,
When you've taken all my resources all my will to be MYSELF.

So, NO..
ITS NO GOOD ENOUGH,
To not be me any longer,
To sit in silence as you live your own life,
With me,
Without me,
While I fester in the shadow of just being your woman.. your shriveling extension,
A bending branch in the wind cast upon the tree trunk that is you
My observations of friends I see losing themselves to their men
Don't ask for my number..
And never call me,
Don't say that you like me,
To never court me,
Don't ask who I am,
Without ever trying to know me,
Don't expect me to open my body,
Just for a smile,
Don't ask for my number,
Just to dm on social media,
I'm a WOMAN,
Not a child,
Call me like a grown man should,
I'm not temporary like a profile,
Or a password,
I am GROWN,
Not some starstruck prepubescent little girl,
Don't ask for my number,
So you can disappear like my Snapchat threads,
I can turn you from #1..
Straight to 0 when my needs aren't met
Let et Scar Jul 9
In the ivy there he laid
In the ivy almost dead
Stuck to his skin a melting sleeping bag
Next to his hand a bottle of drown
Drown his sorrows
Drown his ache
Set himself on fire to smother the pain
In the ivy there he laid
In the ivy burned his flesh
A poem about the time my husband set himself on fire and was found by our friend lying in the ivy
Let et Scar Jun 11
Make me a vision,
Make me a muse,
Make me feel butterflies deep in the womb,

Make me your lover,
But also your friend,
Turn me into a poem of bliss,

Make me feel something,
Make me a song,
Make me into one of those girls they make art about
Let et Scar Jun 11
She decided enough is enough,
Tired of being a diamond buried in the rough,
Always got the cold shoulder,
Always raised to be tough,
Tough love was the only love she ever got,
She split herself into two and forgot,
That she also needed to feel human,
She also needed some warmth,

She ****** around and fell in love,
But of course with the wrong one,
10 years came and gone,
10 years became a decade,
She loved him to the endless,
Soon enough he became a headache,
She had enough of all the emotional abuse,
Sometimes turned into physical misuse,

Finally she started to try to save face,
She tried to leave him but he would make her stay,
Out of fear she always went home,
But he never did let go,

And he never got around to treat her like she deserved,
The hardest decision for her was to sever her ties,
The very vows that tied them together,
After his betrayal she had to let him go,
But he just couldn't watch her walk away,

He decided if I can't have her NO ONE WILL EVER!!

He cancelled himself out and said to her:
If you can't be my wife I'll be the WIDOWMAKER
Let et Scar Jun 3
HER
When I look in the mirror
I don't see HER
I don't see ME
I DONT SEE ANYTHING
.. or anyone

I see just through her

I catch micro glimpses of her staring back at me
I try to find missing pieces of who I used to be
Before I became THIS

And sometimes I can almost see her ...

Most times her memory is small like a needle hole
Most times she just stares right through me

Like water
She is there..
But you can't touch her
My hand just passes through her
Never catching her

Or me
Or she
Am I even here?
Or real..

I don't know

When I look in the mirror
I am ugly
When I see her in pictures
She is lovely

But I don't know who that is..
Is she me?
Am I HER?
I don't really see me like everyone says I am

Why do I always feel like this isn't me living my own life?
Like I'm watching a mirage, a story of someone else's life

It's only when I tell my story that I know THIS was really ALL OF ME

But I don't think I look like her
Or she
Or me
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