When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.

When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.

When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.

When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.

you stole my light
when i told you to stop
and you ignored my red light
and kept going
like my body was undiscovered land
and you were a colonizer.
perhaps my asking you to stop
turned you on
made you hungry.
you looked at me with your hungry eyes
like i was fresh meat
for you to take and have for yourself
ignoring my stop signs
cries
screams
because i am nothing more
than an object to you
made for your manipulation and pleasures.

Will you mind my crazy?
Will you mind the midnight screaming & midday sleeping?
Will you wrap me in your arms and let me pound on your chest with my crimson glazed knuckles?
Will you let me get lost in those gray-blue eyes to forget about the hurt; forget this pain?
Will you love the broken side?
Will you kiss the scars and glide your fingertips over them as if they are not only a part of me but a part of you?
Will you press your lips on my neck as a promise?
Will you unlock every secret?
Will you find every spot that drives me wild?
Will you love me on the inside to my outside?
Will you?

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.