there will only be two things that will happen to you:

either you end up in my poems of heartbreak, remorse, and sadness,
or,
you end up beside me with my hand in yours.

I loved you with a slow pulse and aching heart beat

I loved you with broken lungs and sharp breaths

I loved you with bleeding knuckles and burning tears

I loved you with empty words and trembling lips

I loved you with hopeless thoughts and too much ambition

I loved you with open arms and a hollow chest

I loved you with a million promises and screaming vanities

I loved you with caring hands and broken bones

I loved you with a bitter tongue and starry eyes

I loved you with open scars and the thought of forever

I loved you with fear and never giving up

I saw you in widow's eyes.
I heard you in her cries.
I smelt you in wood and fire.
I felt you in funeral pyre.

I saw you sitting on ground.
I heard you in violin's sound.
I smelt you in burning heart.
I felt you in man sitting apart.

I saw you within lost child.
I heard you in his heart wild.
I smelt you in anxious sweat.
I felt you on his cheeks wet.

Not sure if you searched me;
Or somehow I found thee;
Much love for me in you I see.
Now you ever reside in me.

I have no idea
what it is like
to be *****.
I can't imagine
cooperating
while a man
thrusts his *****
inside of me.
Or even worse,
not cooperating,
and while I kick,
scream, and claw,
he yells ****
and treats me
like he would
a grapefruit
or clementine -
peeled and devoured.

I have no idea
what it is like
to have been *****.
I can't imagine
telling anyone
I was used
or I was tortured
and bled and cried.
Or even worse,
seated in a court
surrounded by people
who have come to know
everything about my body
and psychological well being
as the man
who ***** me
sits in a Calvin Kline suit
twenty feet away
behind a cherry table.