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You fade...
Like a bruise.

Like the ones your mouth left on my neck and shoulders with its lustful pressure.
Your teeth, which brought moments of bright pain/pleasure,
Are now bared in an artificial, animal smile.

Your lips, which parted to ******* skin like it was salvation,
Barely part now to speak to me.
You whispered my name like a prayer.
You screamed it like a curse.
You sighed it in contentment,
And now you won't even speak it in passing.

Your hands, which half-playfully pulled my hair...
Now won't pause to brush it from my face.

All these parts of you,
None more telling than your eyes.
Those new windows, which once let me pry...
Now have blinds drawn tight behind them,
Leaving only a pretty, shiny reflection-
A passing, glancing imitation-
Of the passion they once held
When they beheld
Me.

No color left to them but the muddy colors of
Boredom,
And possibly mistrust.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Like the one you left on my mind with your brilliant conversation
And beautiful, rusty prose.
Like the many you left on my tongue...
Which now can speak nothing but trite and meaningless words,
Which now can barely remember the shapes
Of all the shimmering, liquid phrases it spoke to you
That seemed so important at the time.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Once lover and friend,
Now barely one
And never the other again.
Why
So your drug days are over
But that doesn't you a better father
So you put down the bottle
You'll never be my role model
Your promises are still empty
Everything you say I just can't believe
You still walked out on us
On the ones you swore you loved

This pain is to much to bare
All because you didn't care
For me
Father why didn't you love me!

Why wasn't I enough for you
Why couldn't you love us
Why did you have leave
Was I just too much
{j.d}
There isn't a word for the numbness that has infiltrated my soul.
I could write for a million years and still never convey my thoughts.  
When I first started writing redemption and purification was my goal.
Instead I've realized that the softening I feel is my spirit as it slowly rots.

I have little left to offer that seems original or genuinely mine.
The light bulb rattles and remains ingloriously dark as I cry out for inspiration.
My mind churns with regurgitated thoughts as my creativity has gone blind.
There's physical pain running through my circuits as I deal with my consternation.

Self loathing and sadistic degradation have replaced the path of light.
The voices must be real and telling the truth as I would never lead myself astray.
Now is the time to forget about writing and drift off into the wilderness of night.
I'll close my eyes like a child of four and whisper for salvation as I hopelessly pray.
There was a little girl whom found love to young. On the playground she’d sing a child’s innocent song in a beautiful hum. Boys would hear her song and watch her, entranced. A rebel of a boy came up and asked her to dance. “I heard you singing from the swings. Your eyes are beautiful. Will you take my hand?” Curious and delighted, the girl couldn’t have known what he had planned. He twirled her and kissed her five year old lips. He put his hands around her young and innocent hips. “I have something to show you.” The twelve year old rebel whispered in her ear. “What is it?” out of curiosity not fear.  He took her hand and led her in to the room in the rear of the building. He took off his pants while she looked at the ceiling. So much more happening in between. Those days have passed and that young girl is now a woman. Her heart is confused and her mind in ruins. The love she knew when she was young, the love where he would kiss her underwater and buy her cheese fries, the love that she saw glimmering in his eyes, she never saw in everyone else’s. It confused her. It hurt her. But no one knew of her love. Her pain she suffered alone. Still a child at heart the woman loves to indulge in encounters that temporarily fill the hole of her one and still, only, love. She also gets drunk or high, anything to make her feel numb. She smokes a cigarette and has and epiphany. “I’m going to get my life together, stop sleeping around, and find a love that’s true.” She got up every day. Went to work and school. She leaves her heart open to opportunity and the almighty, God.  She’ll one day become a mother. She’ll have a love that will accept all her sins and kiss all of her scars. He'll hold her close. Ask her to dance. It will be a love she understands. A love she won’t think she deserves. She’ll feel too tainted, but he’ll soothe her with words. Mend the hole. End the hurt.
How does this work as a tale? Writing my first short tale for school. Not sure how I'm doing..
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