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brooke myers Jul 2015
i want your body.
i want to call you mine.
i want your hand to hold
your eyes to stare into.
i want your arms to hold me all night long
i want you to scare all my nightmares and monsters away.
i want you to love me.
i want your loving heart.
i want you.
you look at me,
you kiss me tenderly.
i feel the warmth of your lips and i fall in love with you all over again.
you whisper in my ear that you want more.
im scared.
can i trust you?
we tangle our limbs
slippery with each others sweat.
sticky love.
i fall asleep
fall unconcious into the night.
brooke myers Jul 2015
i've been sold.
traded for.
sold again.
and traded for.
here in this
scary
dark
grey room
im tied to a musty
***** bed.
he'll come in soon.
to torture me.
take the little bit of innocence i have left.
i'll scream and cry.
then i'll go silent
listening to him twisting my insides around.
listening to my bones shatter into little fragments of grain.
trying to hear the heart beat of my broken heart.
just one beat.
thats all i need to keep me alive.
it hurts.
i thought i was in love with him.
but he just broke me.
sold me.
and used me.
thats all i'll ever be.
trash.
used.
a display that they'll break over and over again
one day..
i'll break for good.
be too shattered they wont be able to use me.
then i'll take short breaths.
whisper my goodbyes.
say ******* to all my nightmares.
i'll say good bye with a smile on my face
i wont have to live like this anymore.
im waiting for that day.
where i can rest
not having to go out on the streets
waiting for men to pick me up and torture me.
i'll be able to breathe
be free.
i'll be able to see the real me.
i'll be happy.
  Jul 2015 brooke myers
William Barry
Smirked at, ****** on, pushed around, beat down
The ***** street corner is Tipsy Trixie's sin city playground.
She charges cheap,
because the black asphalt radiates the smoldering mid-July heat.
She hums "Hey Jude" as she struts up and down 9th Street.
She can't wear layers in the winter, because nobody can see the goods
underneath leg warmers , gloves, furs, and hoods.

Now Trixie is pregnant, 4 months...she's starting to show.
The days are getting longer but the business is slow.
"The Man" doesn't know.
He won't know...he can never know.
Trixie's been warned about the man.
He'll beat her up, and slice her open,
like a Chef Boyardee ravioli can.
Then he''ll sew her up and throw her back on 9th street,
to meet supply and demand.
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