you kissed my scars alright, but your serpent tongue laid down a fresh kind of poison. a formula that threatened to create more harm than that which the gentle caress of your lips on my wrist declared to avenge

Pretty boy, singing your pretty words:
pouring liquid symphonies into my ear,
knowing exactly what I want to hear.

Stolen words, from a romance guide;
pried from the heart of your previous lover,
and some two, three, four or maybe five girls other.

Cooing sweet nothings in your honey voice.
It is not enough, a mating ritual parade,
because I’ve been there before and I know your charade.

Don’t you understand? - what you did to me.
Demon possessed or a facade dropped,
the memory: the pain, the anxiety, the shock.

What you want is untouched, an untampered babe.
Yet again, you devote your concert to me,
but I don’t want it and you don’t really want me.

I am stitched back together, corrupt by your hand.
Your photocopied scars adjourn my skin,
but the ink seeped deeper, obscuring your sin.

And you’ll never understand, what you did to me:
because you’re still a pretty boy, with your pretty words
and I'll deal with the trauma, my story unheard.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I don’t have the desire to see another end;
after exhaustive months of getting to know
a fictionalised persona, fragmented, so

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last one hurt and you didn’t see,
but that doesn’t proclaim the scar less prominent to me,
my feelings numb, I no longer crave the intimacy - detrimental to me.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last boys touch was for him not for me
and my body still screams cause he won’t let it be
and you’ll never understand as the trauma won’t subside
and my self esteem is diminished by his lies.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I humoured a guy who gave it a try
but all I could feel was nothing inside
and when someone bumps into me sauntering by
the unwanted touch still makes me cry.

No, I don't want a boyfriend.

it's another early AM when salt tears splash my face,
they sting, but they are daisies compared to the swords I have endured with you.
it's almost half a year since you took what was not yours to take,
with your mumbled excuses and your dismissive gestures.
i brace myself, the pain looms again, i shout at it to GO AWAY,
the reminder of what you did, but it is a pain that paracetomal will not subside, because the pain is a memory;
the increasing anxiety, the thought of you inside of me when i did not want you to be there.
GO AWAY.

Sleep, why won’t you come?
You taunt me with your yawns.
You tease me with your heavy lids.
Now my day is done.
Dismount your slippery stripper pole
and take a willing worshipper.

The human mind is immeasurable. Don't build bars around your infinite potential.

Two independent beings that closely co-exist: love each other, respect each other and worship each other, should not have to claim ownership of each other, as labelling them ‘mine’.

Tonight I sleep soundly,
a blanket of stars cover me, the universe tucks me in.
Tonight I sleep soundly,
mother moon has hushed her lullaby and emits her gentle light.
Tonight I sleep soundly,
a million stars a million light years away decorate a sky incomprehensibly vast.
Tonight I sleep soundly,
because I know that I am all, and all is I.
And I, am limitless.

You, my darling, are the most exceptional jewel of them all. So why is it that you mirage your gleam with the dirt of the common stones?

How can humanity literally be so omnipresent but figuratively be so rare?

The first time I heard those three little words they were not spoken to me, they came as a whisper within.
They shocked me, yet they felt so right... so comfortable...
They never found their place in the world, they were never exposed by my tongue.
For the fear of the stripped vulnerability was too great; the idea that you would examine the bare nakedness of my soul and simply quizzically blink, or poke at the parts that interested you until they interested you no more.
And you did.
And those three little words remain my greatest secret.