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.

Drinking away
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.