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amanda cooper Dec 2019
one question
that i want to know:
who hurt you?
12/13/2019.
amanda cooper Dec 2019
mental illness is the
most expensive thing
i've ever owned but
never wanted
05/30/2016
amanda cooper Dec 2019
i've forgotten the way that you sound,
forgotten the way you chuckle
when you say my name.
i don't remember the way your smile
drips off of your words.
but i do remember your hands,
and the way they looked when they let me go.
04/07/2013.
forever missing my old poetry and my old voice and when i spent all my time reading sierra demulder and kelsey rakes and pete wentz's poems
amanda cooper Dec 2019
i guess all the nights you
****** me from behind were
spent mapping out where
you would stab me in the back
09/10/2015.
amanda cooper Dec 2019
i want to be excited but i have
sixty days of skeletons in my
closets to keep me up at night
and i wanna say your company
will fight the dark but then
you'd have to be my light
a poem i found digging through my old blog that spanned over six years of my life. i think this one is from sometime in 2015, maybe april?
amanda cooper Dec 2019
the March air was cold as
the rain washed away the sins
we committed in the corner of your bed.
hungry mouths met desperate for satisfaction,
desperate for the sanctuary the other provided.
between crushed lips,
your drunken tongue would
form the words to your favorite songs,
the ones that reminded you of me,
confessions of heartbreak that
spanned across the years.
honey colored eyes searched
my face for a sign that
this time would be different,
and your hands gripped my wrists
like ironclad handcuffs above my head,
like you could prevent my escape this time.
my heart was racing for the door but
you held me there as you
pressed yourself into me,
and my mind screamed for you to stop
but my mouth begged you for more.
when it was over,
you cupped my chin in your hand and
pressed your lips to my ear,
asking if i would stay for the night
but i knew you wanted more.
but all i could give you was a smile
and a promise, "next time."
i haven't seen you since.
" 'Everything I know about breaking hearts, I learned from you.' Isn't that what they said?"
"That's ******* and you know it, Manda."

“I do love you, by the way. As much as I’m capable of loving someone. Which is never enough. I’m sorry.”

You've always been my favorite person to write about.

12/05/2019.
amanda cooper Nov 2019
the only men that i speak to on a daily basis
are all younger than me by years.
because six and a half years ago.
i went to a party at a best friend's house,
a man i had known for five years.
i met a girl who made my head spin -
or maybe it was just the drinks she had poured.
i'm still not sure which.
everyone got a little too drunk
and had a little too much fun.
i've always had trouble falling
asleep around strangers.
it started when a boy three years my senior
decided to take the innocence
of an eleven year old girl.
but that's a story for another time.
see, i nestled myself between this angel of a girl
and my older best friend expecting to be
safe, needing to be safe.
but in the morning,
when the sleep had burned
the alcohol off of his tongue,
i woke up to his hand inside me.
it's taken me six and a half years
to acknowledge that he heard my
panicked breathing and tears and
mistook it for passionate gasping
and didn't realize what he'd
done until i'd grabbed my things
and ran out the front door,
heaving air through my lungs
and choking on the bile
forcing its way out of my stomach.
i still tell myself that i was
just being dramatic.
that i am still just dramatic.
that if he had hurt me, he would apologize.
and when he didn't...
well, maybe there was nothing to apologize for.
two days ago, i wouldn't close my
eyes on an airplane because a man
sat next to me and if i
can't trust someone that i held
so dear to not hurt me,
why would a stranger be any different?
****** assault.
it's the first time i've allowed myself
to consider that maybe, just once, i was a victim.
and i realized that nearly every man
that has held seniority over me has
coerced me or hurt me or violated me,
touched me without my permission.
and with strangers and new acquaintances
and even with new friends,
i keep looking for the sadism in their smile,
the betrayal in their movements,
the lurking deceit in their words.
i can't ever let go and just trust,
i can't let my guard down,
not for a moment.
i'm afraid of older men,
and i finally know why.
11/04-05/2019.
it's not a good poem but i needed to put it down somewhere because i don't see my therapist for another three weeks.
sometimes i still feel like the girl standing in the front yard in pajamas,
the next day's clothes in my hand,
because i ran before i could face what happened.
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