Little lost child,
the one I never saw smile,
Little lost child,
A baby the product of ****.
Yet a tiny angel who was to not exist
Young lost love,
I can still feel you now,
waiting to come back to me,
little lost child,
son, daughter,
child of the moon...
promise to come back to me. soon

Staring at the glass case,
A broken room, a broken memory,
Yet a beautiful little gold heart necklace.

Memories,
A girl once wore this,
Her sweet lover could have given it to her,
Or even maybe her grandmother.

Maybe her dad worked long hard hours to get this beautiful heart,
Maybe he came home one night,
Held behind his back,
Told her to close her eyes tight.

Maybe it was a gift to a young girl,
a young girl who was her mother’s princess,
a cherished baby with a beautiful name like Eeveenna,

Sadly in that case it is not the truth,
This necklace came from a very broken owner,
Given to her by a distant lover,
At times the lover would hold her close,
Other times shed come home to a closed fist.
Sometimes screaming voices surrounded the necklace as it was around her neck,
Other times it felt the tears the girl cried,

It followed her to the place where shed receive help,
Help from her past,
Help with how to cope with the trauma.

Dad had left,
The girl remembered all the assumptions that the necklace has been given to her,
A dead beat father,
A mom out of control.
A necklace that should be burned as the memories are forgotten
The memories this girl will never forget.

This is no necklace without a past.
A simple gift turned into something that would follow her to her grave,
This tiny gold heart,
Worn and old,
A necklace that would be kept till the day she decayed.

But as I look into this glass case,
A worn down necklace,
A necklace with a story,
A long dark story,
A story never to be told,
A story that die with the girl…

Frosty morning breeze.
Yet a sense of security.
Security when he is here.
Holding me,
Deep under the covers,
The cold couldn't touch us.

He was still asleep.
A warm unconscious face.
Careful not to wake.
Not to make a noise.

Just curl up close.
Feel his breath against my neck.
Warm and welcoming.
His arms still holding me tight.
This is how we lay most nights.

Ever so close.
Yet ever so far.
Five more months until her can hold me in such a way.
Five more months until life can truly begin.
Five more months until I can be with him.

Roll it off your tongue.
Watch it leave your mouth.
No this word must be whispered.

Said with uncertain doubt.
In society today,
America tends to sway.

Far far away,
Away from this whispered word.
Away from the sad facts.

Unfortunately this word is more than that.
The word **** is no secret.
Almost 1.3 million each year.
Your sister, your brother, your uncle, even your mother.
A sensitive word I know...

Yet they keep it out of schools.
When my teacher said the r word I though she meant *******.
A word more commonly thrown around than a word that should be spoken about.

My voice was shut down.
Don't use the r word in schools.
It's not a school appropriate subject.
Just shut your mouth and forget.
Victims everywhere.
Men and women. Adults and children.
All potential victims of ****** abuse.

You want the word **** kicked out of schools?
Look how it's all around you.
A poetry teacher unable to let me express.
A word that may hit hard to all the rest.

A simple statement about **** in relationships.
The R word shouldn't need an explanation.
The R word is all around us.

Still such a subject that it is to be kept hidden.
Shut your mouth don't speak out.
The word **** is such a thing never to be said.

Only until your the one it's happening to instead.
Speaking out is scary.
Probably even harder because in school nobody tells you it's okay to talk about.
Instead it something you just not say.

Girls and boys please listen to me.
You use your voice and you speak.
You practice your first amendment right.
Don't stay hidden,
Don't give up the fight.

If someone hurts you in such a way.
I know that it's scary,
And thanks to society today,
You may be very afraid.
Afraid to speak out
Afraid to raise attention.

Afraid.
Afraid shouldn't be a word associated with speaking out against ****.
Stop closing doors.
Stop making this subject scary.
Encourage people to be open.
Everyone has a voice.
It just needs to be spoken.

Her hands always quick to throw.
Spit the first words.
Throw the first punch.

Relationships aren't perfect.
Mine was far from.
Words biting deep into my soul.
Tearing me apart bit by bit.

I was a doll in her games.
Her hands constantly put up one me.
Non consensual things.
Yes **** still applies in relationships.

All the people would come to her house.
Watch the door while we roll this.
Watch the door while we crush these.
I was nothing but a pawn in her games.

Sneaking ***** into my drinks.
Calling me nothing at nights when I couldn't sleep.
Holding me close only to destroy me later.

A.C. Long gone.
Down a road very bad.
A road of **** and ******.
Going to collage to be a psychologist until she fell into the arms of the monster.

The monster she hold so dear.
The monster who changed her.
The monster clenching her soul.

This monster can be injected,
This monster can be smoked...
this monster is impossible once it gets a hold.

She became the monster.
The one I was afraid of.
Started off small then bigger.

Drugs won't affect you unless you do them,
A common mistake people say.

No, never once did they affect me.
Or at least I can say.
But that was a lie.
Depression, eating disorders, self harm, emotional abuse, physical abuse, trauma, hallusionations, trust issues, fear.
All lay deep within the hands of the monster.

The monster chokes the good memory out of me.
The monster put me on a leash.
Home by midnight.
Locations on my phone.
Who is he.
Why are you not home?

A controlling girlfriend.
Talk to no one.
Only her.
Her whom was held dear by the monster.

The monster took the form of a black blur.
The one that sneaks up when you least expect it.
Yet she was excellent at hiding it.

I'm fine.
Nothing is wrong.
What's wrong with you.
Why do you question me.
Keep your mouth shut or things will get bad.

Tape over my mouth because god you don't want to see her mad.
Clothing may have hid my bruises.
The emotional pain still apparent.

All because my girlfriend held a contract with the monster.
The monster held her at night.
And that is what the hands do.

Cigarette smoke.
Lingering through the air.
His long black coat.
And his scraggly blonde/ginger hair.

He isn't perfect to others,
But he is mine.
His hugs cause me to melt.
His eyes are mesmerizing.

Yes he's coated in the smell of
Cigarettes.
But he is mine.

Such a beautiful intelligent mind he has.
Such a smart man he is.
I'd say a boy but he is beyond that intellectual phase.

His intelligence would blow many away.
I can almost say he's lost his mind.
But after all,
He is mine.

Sneaking around in the dark of the night.
The gentle glow of the street lights.
Often times he brings me food.
Other times he comes bringing gifts of hugs.

Long warm hugs.
The smell of him and his cigarette breath.
Sour but soothing.
Only because I know,
He is mine.

Devoted to this man I am.
Dedicated and loyal.
This boy at heart,
A man in reality.

Intelligence bearing.
Beautifully deranged.
His mind is full of pain.
Yet he is mine.

He numbs my pains.
He causing the nightmares to run in fear.
Yes he is the man I hold ever so dear.

I'm not one to dedicate poems to people of love interest.
But he is more than an interest.
He is a beautiful toast.
That's a bit of an inside joke.
But again he is mine.