"I think you're a *******"
We both laugh
The words leave my friend's mouth,
meant as a joke,
but there is a sad truth to her words

I can still feel the scars of my past
My skin is bare;
The abuse was emotional, verbal, mental
The bruises are internal

Give everything you have,
earn neglect in return
Give too much of yourself,
and they continue to take until nothing is left

But you love the thrill
How rapid your heart beats,
as you fear that they'll never return

Break my hard shell,
and beat me until
I can no longer feel

Can you erase what you did to me?
Emotional abuse?
All the pain and the rage?
And could you pencil in
some trace of love?

There is a void inside you now that you do not understand, it is filled with the cracking of sticks and the smell of his old gym socks.

The weather is 62 and sunny there, he always told you he would start running, much like you would give up smoking and ripped up tights.
He thought it was disgusting how your lipstick stained his coffee cups.


You found his old hairbrush with hairs still attached, and used toothbrush laying on the floor near your lipstick stained shot glass.
Reminisce you can’t return.



He always smelled like after the down pour, after all the yelling is done,
When you sit in a chair and notice all the cracks in the celing, the bright green light of the computer charger, and you think to yourself, how bad of a person you must be.

Then he disappears to go running maybe, or because it was too hard to handle the way your sunglasses cluttered his nightstand,

Or maybe because you showed him who he really was, the reality of an imperfect being,

March 17, 2014
4:17 pm

This.
This was the moment that changed everything.
When we reached the finish line of being friends
and the starting point of being lovers.
I remember how you made me feel like a prized possession.
Like I was a stuffed toy that you have finally got out of the crane machine.
I remember how you made me feel so wanted the first time that we met.
I remember how it felt when we first locked gazes and how it didn't feel like the normal stare, not physically but spiritually.
I felt your gaze pierce down to my soul
because it felt like you knew what I was really needy for.
I remember how the first texts were like, harmless flirting here and there,
you were slowly making your way into my heart.
I remember how everything changed when you started calling me baby.
It felt so right, so sweet, until I felt literally like a baby;
like you were a grown-up who knew so much more than I did
and all i could do was listen, all I could do was agree.
I didn't know how it happened, it just did.
You seemed like the perfect guy, everything you said was the exact response that I wanted but yet you managed to surprise me every time.
You made me feel special.

I remember how it felt when you said my name,
like the letters were just hidden under your tongue
because you've spent years practicing on how to say it.
I remember how my name sounded
like a melodious song every time it escaped your lips.
You made me feel like a prized possession.
Like a stuffed toy pulled out of a crane machine.
You didn't pick me because I was the best,
only because I looked like I was the easiest one to pull out,
one that you were sure wasn't going to slip from your experienced hands.
You knew I wasn't smooth enough to slip because I showed you how rough my skin was, how my scars looked like train tracks on my skin.
Looked like border lines on my surface, craters made by bullets,
turned my body into a war zone.
A prize, a glistening trophy with no use,
only displayed on a cabinet to make you look good, to make people see that you've achieved something. I was merely something pretty to look at.
Every minute that we weren't speaking was like a rope tied around throat
unabling me to speak, like a rope tied around my feet,
around every criss and cross of my body unabling me to walk,
to move from a place other than where you wanted me to be.

I finally learned the difference between stupidity and ignorance.

I was stupid to not realize that it was all just an act.
Just something to butter me up, to soften me into submission.
Because at the age of 14 it was easy to love you.

It was easy to pretend that you meant it
when you said you loved me back.

And I was stupid enough to give you an inside view of my soul,
I gave you pieces of my insecurities only to find you feeding off of them,
like a vampire feeds off a person's neck,
uses their allure to get what they want.
My insecurities gave you strength.
You used my fears as as a fuel, and my body was a map.
I was stupid enough to let you inside my thoughts.
But I knew.
I only kept ignoring the fact
that the only place you wanted to be was between my thighs.
I kept pretending,
kept ignoring the fact that you were only looking for an easy ****.

You wove your every I love you into a blanket, securing me,
making me feel safe from all those monsters under the bed,
from all the monsters inside my head,
telling me I wasn't ******* enough for you,
telling me that I am just another one of your play things,
just another one of your toys,
and that you go through girls
like you go through clothes.
The voices told me that I was no different than them.
That you would soon discard me
like a piece of gum that has lost its flavor.
Those three words were like fire,
keeping me warm, those three words were so beautiful
though my state was so pitiful.
I did not know I was moving too close until I got burnt.
Until I found myself cold without you,
you destroyed me.
The blood in my veins freezes, stopped circulating,
I wasn't able to function because I realized
that you were the player and I was the game.
You made me need you.
I let you put your hand inside my chest, clawing out my heart,
then breaking it.
I was a stitched up rag doll learning her parts as she loses them.
You left me with shards of broken glass that seemed to be irreparable.

But the worst thing of all was that on the night you gave up on me,
I gave up on myself too.

Look at you
Look at what you've become
You think this is happiness
Her under your thumb
Her resolve breaking down
The parts used to fix your life
Her medium of release
The blade of a knife
This is abuse
In its emotional sense
Using sadness and anger to manipulate and hence
It doesn't take much
To bring a state of vex
This relationships a cycle
Of pain and ***
*** only providing a temporay relief
Before our eyes are opened
To the strife and grief
Yet she defends you
Once said its problems at home
With each word in your defense
I think Stockholm, Stockholm
Since her resolve is crumbling
To ashes and dust
I ask myself whether its love or lust
Lust its loss
A fear of losing control
Like you did with another
Like you did as a whole
Thats why she"s your second
Thats why you're with her
A girl who never argues
Retaliates or infers
So you can remain in control
Keep her in a drone like state
Where her spirit is in your hands
Where you decide her fate
So I write this poem with the hope
That she will find
That a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind