My hands quake,
my mouth quivers, my nails dig into the skin on my stomach, my breathing grows heavier and heavier. Finally, you grab my hand and I am fine. Then I awake.
My home was complete
when you were there. It lit up in flames when you left. I now remain homeless, until you come back to me.
my thoughts. Drinking away my feelings.
You dug me a grave
and told me that you will join too. I jumped in without fear, but where are you?
You knew what you
were doing to me. You knew that it would hurt. You knew my weaknesses, and used those against me. I'm not sure what I did to you. I'm not sure why you turned dark. Maybe the darkness was always there. Maybe my suffering turned you on. Maybe I knew that you never loved me. Maybe I knew that you never cared. Maybe I let you do these things because I loved you too deeply. How do you live without me? How am I supposed to move on? How am I supposed to believe when someone else says the things that you said when I live in fear of repetition? ******* for picking me. ******* for causing me pain. *******.
Although no one wants
someone who is broken, I would like to believe that love can be found in the darkest parts of the city. A love that perhaps will kiss my scars upon first glance, rather than deciding to go back to where I found them, never to be seen again.
Beautiful, you said as you kissed my hand when we first met.
Perfect, you whispered as you took every last bit of my innocence. Overjoyed, I was to have found my soulmate. Mine, you called with anger as you groped me in public. Sensitive, you shouted when I expressed my feelings. Confused, I was when the sweet turned to sour. Dumb, you declared disgustedly when I told you my dreams. Fat, you mentioned as I undressed myself in front of you. Rejected, I was by the person I loved the most. My fault, it was when you grabbed my hand with force. My fault, it was when you painted bruises on every last bit of me. My fault, it was for letting you do this to me.