I wait, excited for when I see you again.
touch your fingers
kiss your lips
hear your voice.

But you always wanted more.

Because instead of wanting to see me
you wanted to see how the dress you bought looked on my body,
instead of touching my fingers
you wanted to invade  the parts of my body i regarded sacred,
instead of kissing my lips
you wanted to devour my mouth
and dominate me to show how weak i am,
instead of hearing my voice
you wanted moans and cries of pleasure
screams for the world to hear that I belong to you.

I sit here on the bed.
After your rounds of happiness and my forced labor.
I ask you who was the girl that you were so clearly flirting with last night and you tell me  it was just harmless flirting
and I bite my tongue
because i wanted to scream at you
Is it harmless,
that when you canceled on our date because you said you were sick,
someone told me that they saw you at a club, that you were gripping that girl's waist
and grinding on her like you were her man?
Is it harmless,
that everyday you rub it in my face how immensely inexperienced and timid i am
compared to the other girls you've been with?
Is it harmless,
that you asked me if it's okay if you ***** other girls
and I was taken aback and it was clear that I didn't approve?
You said
"They don't really mean anything, I just need some variety."
I knew right there that even if I didn't allow you, you'd still do it.
And right now
I’m just confused more than ever as I ask you again
What exactly we are and you say
“We're exclusively dating.”
But most of the time it’s more like
exclusively *******
with each other
with other emotions
with our non-existent commitments.
Because after just a mere 5 minutes of you being with me
and I refuse to spread my legs for you,
you have the nerve to lie to my face and look me in the eye and say
"My love for you gets stronger everyday."
And I swoon, being the naive little girl that I am
I am hung up on your words and I say yes when you ask me if we're okay.
But I know that by okay you mean okay with being invaded.
And with every pound, with every ******
The word love is replaced by lust
so now the sentence is
"My lust for you gets stronger everyday
and my love for you decreases the same."

I am so tired and so worn down from the weight of all my insecurities and you come hobbling in with your own bag of insecurities and stick it inside of me which you only do when other girls don't want you to.

Well guess what
For the first time in my life,
I'm
gonna
say
no.

She sits at the dinner table
Flattened lips
Tightly-****** hands
Neutral face
She is disgusted
As she lifts the spoon to her mouth
Immediate remorse fills her body as the taste buds get the first feel of the warm food
She is disgusted
As she continues to eat, she can see the food  turning into fat traveling to her cheeks
and to her jaw and to her arms and to her shoulders and to her chest and to her stomach
covering the bones that she wants to pierce through her skin
She can see it travel to her thighs, largening in size, making them touch, covering the huge gap that she wants situated in the middle
She is disgusted
She gets paler and paler with every chew and every swallow
And so to escape this torture, she lies and tells her uncle and aunt that her stomach is upset
and she feels sick
But she wasn't lying
Because her stomach was truly upset because it did not want to be filled
It wanted to stay tiny
It wanted to stay beautiful
It wanted to be more beautiful
She goes straight to the bathroom and locks the door
Washes her hands before sticking ******* down her throat
Removes them once she feels the disgust rising through her esophagus
Closes her eyes as her upset stomach throws away everything unwanted
She is disgusted
She secures the lock in her bedroom
Thinking maybe it will keep the demons away
Or at least long enough for a second of sanity
But they are too gruesomely evil because the disgust that was once in her throat has now traveled to her wrists
She criticizes how her wrist bone isn't showing enough
Disgust travels to her chest
how her ribs aren't piercing enough
Disgust travels to her hips
how her hip bones aren't showing enough
Disgust travels to her thighs
how the space between isn't big enough
Disgust travels to her fingertips
Tension building up in her palms
The demons' silence turn into screams
She gives in
Picks up the knife
and writes an new poem on her body
I
am
*disgusted

Every night,
I read your poems
I read the honest thoughts of your mind
and every night,
I'm still wishing that I was the girl
behind the hidden times that you smile
the girl that makes you want to live
the girl that you hope for
the girl you wish for
and even though you don't believe in God,
I want to be the one that you'll pray for
the girl who can stop your nightmares
and turn them into dreams

I see the way you look at her
like she's one of the rare heavenly bodies
found in the infinite sky
and I'm just another lone galaxy
my elliptical indifference
spiral lies and mistakes
are reflected across the vastness of the void
and sometimes it feels like
I am the sun
and you are the moon
and we are cursed that the sun and the moon
will never collide
because you are too far caught up,
amazed by the stars
amazed by how she seems to shine and twinkle
across the darkness
and you don't care because you never notice
that my shoulders are near to breaking
from staying straight too long
every time I let you climb up on them
so you can try to reach her
but can't
the same way she doesn't care
that you write poems for her
and that you cast her as the princess
in your stories
I want to be the princess
in your stories
But everyday,
I am forced to fade into the background
because life has decided
that I am too broken
to be anyone's princess

Every night, I get pricked from the sharp points of the stars
when I collect them and try to weave them into a blanket
to drape over your body
to protect you
from the whispers and the screams
the truth and the lies
the fallen hopes and the cries
make you look at me
the way you look at her
but I still see you wishing
that it was her that you were hugging
and I am back into hiding
into that space where the superheroes have discarded their trash
the place for the people they've decided
are hopeless
the ones who still need saving
but are too convinced
that they've reached their end

I am the girl
that you share the deepest thoughts of your mind with
the thoughts that were lodged
into the small cracks
along the sidewalk of your secrets
You tell me the phrases
the rhymes and the metaphors
that no one else could decode
but she is still the concept
she is still the idea that comes up in your mind
when you think of writing something new,
writing something beautiful
And again,
I am just here
still the only girl
who can truly understand your poems
but never the girl inside them

...and so I held her. As the tears continued to spill from her eyes, I held her.
Wrapping my arms around her as if to keep her from falling apart.
I ran my fingers through her hair as I whispered over and over

"I love you.
And it's
gonna
be
okay."

stupid boy,
i hope you know what you're getting into
because by uttering those three simple words,
you have managed to own me 
you were able to take the guitar from my hands
and make me the one to listen 

stupid boy,
I hope you are gentle and careful
because by making me feel secure in your arms,
my world is now situated in your hands
and one wrong twitch of your fingers
may touch a crack
which will break me even more

stupid boy,
i hope you're ready to be awoken from your deep slumbers
and know how to comfort a crying girl
because you'll have to hold me,
as I shake and sob at 2 am 
from the nightmares 
caused by the monsters in my head

stupid boy,
i hope you're ready to listen
because with the way you can make me sway with your words,
poetry will be flowing out of my mouth
like a waterfall of letters 
a whirlpool of emotions in every phrase 

stupid boy,
i hope you won't have second thoughts
or just simply run away
because when you strip me of all the glamourous facades
you'll see fresh battle wounds 
the body of your beloved is a warzone scattered with bullets

stupid boy,
i hope you're not easily disgusted by grime
because the skin that you want your lips upon is filth
and the cracks on my body may be bleeding
please clean these patches of dirt 
and fill the emptiness which is my whole being

stupid boy,
i hope you know that you fell in love with a broken girl
because I'm not like those pretty ones in the movies
my skin is blood-stained and my face is tear-soaked
i have no idea on what love feels like 
and to give it back in return
so please give me time to learn

stupid boy,
i hope you're good with words
because every day i am going to ask you
"why me?"
and i need you to make me understand
explain to me in detail
why you settled for a girl like me
when you could have gone for so many others
the ones who don't need fixing 
or assurance that they are beautiful
unlike how i am

stupid boy,
i hope you know that this stupid girl loves you too
even though i'll never really understand
why you chose me
or how i can return back the same amount of love that you make me feel,
i want you to know 
that if the only reason we're together
is because we're stupid,
then we'll be idiots forever

Forever, you said.
One word injected into my skin
making its way through my veins
tatted into my brain
and carved onto my heart.

And I believed you.

Every fiber in my body succumbed to the idea of your forever.
Even when you passed by and wouldn't even spare me as so much of a glance,

I grasped on your forever.

Even when I sleep, expecting to see myself wrapped up securely in your arms the next morning but instead waking up to the bed made neatly by your side
and I realize that you weren't even really with me the night before
or all the nights before that.
You were merely a body when I was soul, heart, and mind when I was with you.

I held on to that string of 7 letters
F-O-R-E-V-E-R
Strongly gripping the thin thread but gentle enough
because I was afraid that the thread will snap
and our forever will go back to being a jumble of letters
merely holding their place in the alphabet line.

I realized how you treat forever like it was spit from your mouth.
A never-ending supply that you can use as long as breath passes through your cells.
Forever, for you, was like rain droplets,
starting high up in the air, competing with other drops to get through
only to fall and
come shattering on the ground.

The cloth
we collected the stars with
you now use to wipe someone else's tears.
The paper
where we dripped our blood in
you now use to write a new story on.
The fingers
that used to set my skin ablaze upon every touch
you now use to trace someone else's shape.
The lips
that you used to set me on fire with
you now use to cloth someone else with
new hopes,
new dreams,
new promises.

I just wanted for you to hold me long enough so your touch may freeze upon my skin.
The memory of your hands on my body to last me forever.

But forever
was too much to ask.

-t.a.

March 17, 2014
4:17 pm

This.
This was the moment that changed everything.
When we reached the finish line of being friends
and the starting point of being lovers.
I remember how you made me feel like a prized possession.
Like I was a stuffed toy that you have finally got out of the crane machine.
I remember how you made me feel so wanted the first time that we met.
I remember how it felt when we first locked gazes and how it didn't feel like the normal stare, not physically but spiritually.
I felt your gaze pierce down to my soul
because it felt like you knew what I was really needy for.
I remember how the first texts were like, harmless flirting here and there,
you were slowly making your way into my heart.
I remember how everything changed when you started calling me baby.
It felt so right, so sweet, until I felt literally like a baby;
like you were a grown-up who knew so much more than I did
and all i could do was listen, all I could do was agree.
I didn't know how it happened, it just did.
You seemed like the perfect guy, everything you said was the exact response that I wanted but yet you managed to surprise me every time.
You made me feel special.

I remember how it felt when you said my name,
like the letters were just hidden under your tongue
because you've spent years practicing on how to say it.
I remember how my name sounded
like a melodious song every time it escaped your lips.
You made me feel like a prized possession.
Like a stuffed toy pulled out of a crane machine.
You didn't pick me because I was the best,
only because I looked like I was the easiest one to pull out,
one that you were sure wasn't going to slip from your experienced hands.
You knew I wasn't smooth enough to slip because I showed you how rough my skin was, how my scars looked like train tracks on my skin.
Looked like border lines on my surface, craters made by bullets,
turned my body into a war zone.
A prize, a glistening trophy with no use,
only displayed on a cabinet to make you look good, to make people see that you've achieved something. I was merely something pretty to look at.
Every minute that we weren't speaking was like a rope tied around throat
unabling me to speak, like a rope tied around my feet,
around every criss and cross of my body unabling me to walk,
to move from a place other than where you wanted me to be.

I finally learned the difference between stupidity and ignorance.

I was stupid to not realize that it was all just an act.
Just something to butter me up, to soften me into submission.
Because at the age of 14 it was easy to love you.

It was easy to pretend that you meant it
when you said you loved me back.

And I was stupid enough to give you an inside view of my soul,
I gave you pieces of my insecurities only to find you feeding off of them,
like a vampire feeds off a person's neck,
uses their allure to get what they want.
My insecurities gave you strength.
You used my fears as as a fuel, and my body was a map.
I was stupid enough to let you inside my thoughts.
But I knew.
I only kept ignoring the fact
that the only place you wanted to be was between my thighs.
I kept pretending,
kept ignoring the fact that you were only looking for an easy ****.

You wove your every I love you into a blanket, securing me,
making me feel safe from all those monsters under the bed,
from all the monsters inside my head,
telling me I wasn't ******* enough for you,
telling me that I am just another one of your play things,
just another one of your toys,
and that you go through girls
like you go through clothes.
The voices told me that I was no different than them.
That you would soon discard me
like a piece of gum that has lost its flavor.
Those three words were like fire,
keeping me warm, those three words were so beautiful
though my state was so pitiful.
I did not know I was moving too close until I got burnt.
Until I found myself cold without you,
you destroyed me.
The blood in my veins freezes, stopped circulating,
I wasn't able to function because I realized
that you were the player and I was the game.
You made me need you.
I let you put your hand inside my chest, clawing out my heart,
then breaking it.
I was a stitched up rag doll learning her parts as she loses them.
You left me with shards of broken glass that seemed to be irreparable.

But the worst thing of all was that on the night you gave up on me,
I gave up on myself too.

This boy,
who had so much light in his eyes
whenever he talked about the things he loves.
This boy,
who was my best friend
the person I can share the deep thoughts of my mind with.
This boy,
who never failed to be right by my side
when I just needed holding.
This boy,
who was there to listen
to my pointless ramblings and complaints and curses.
This boy,
who put up with all of my ****
even if it humiliated him and most of the time, pained him.
This boy,
who invested his time
talking to a boring girl like me.
This boy who dedicated so much and cared so much and loved so much.
This boy,
who did not push me to love him
but instead tried his best to show reasons for me to love myself.
This boy,
who had so many ideas
kept all to himself.
This boy,
who put so much effort into helping me
that he forgets to help himself.
This boy,
who doesn't know how brilliant he is
but is focused on his flaws.
This boy,
who wrote beautiful poems
always unnoticed.
This boy,
who was so in love with a girl
that he was willing to die for her.
This boy,
whose good heart
was so tired and fed up.
This boy,
who wanted to give up
and give in to the voices inside his head.
This boy,
who carried so much pain in his heart
and hatred in his skin.
This boy,
who dragged cigarettes
in the evening hoping to release the pain.
This boy,
who simply wanted to escape
from the pains of feeling worthless and unrequited love.
This boy,
who was willing to free himself
and fly from the roof.
This boy,
who wanted to die.
This boy,
who was losing the light
in
his
eyes.

The first time I heard the phrase
“Who’s your daddy?”
Because my young mind lives in my sexually abused body
I knew it wasn’t just an innocent query about who my father was.
As a young child who never really got to play pretend
With anybody but myself
I mastered the art of locking my skin in a bedroom
And conjuring my own playmates.
I remember the first time my dad left
To work in a place far enough for me not to reach him
I didn’t know that it was also the last time
That everything in my life was going to feel
Like how every little girl’s life should be
When I look back now,
I remember one post card from my dad
Wherein he told me to not be hard-headed
But mostly I remember moving to a new bed space with my mum
And sleeping on the floor, some nights without dinner
Some nights with my mum trying to not let me hear her crying.
I knew that I had nothing compared to my rich fair-skinned friends
And sometimes I asked God, why.
I was a small, petite girl who shouldn’t feel comfortable
having curse words buried beneath her tongue
But ended up the most badass out of their group
When she knew how to say ******* to every boy
Who teased her for having curly noodle hair and dark skin.

The next time I heard the phrase
“Who’s your daddy?”
I tried so hard to picture him smiling
But end up with the image of his new wife, with his new child
Smiling as if I never existed,
As if the part of his life that included us
Was just a manuscript that never got published.
As if I was a useless prologue to the actual novel
As if I was a vase of ashes of the daughter I used to be.

Now, when I hear the phrase
“Who’s your daddy?”
I try to reflect the question back into empty hollows of my belly
I try to look for the answer amongst the dust left
when my father ran away from me.
Stop asking me who or where my father is
Because I have no ******* idea
I try so hard to remember being an innocent little girl in her daddy’s arms
But all I get is the post card of him telling me to not be hard headed
But daddy, this is how you raised me!
No, scratch that this was how the streets raised me
Because you were never there.
Hard head and hard heart matching with thick skin
Maybe this is why I am so comfortable with hurting myself
Because if I can be hurt by my own father
Abused my own uncle
Left by all of the men in my life
And still live
Then why can’t I do it myself?
This is why no one can tell me that it is not in a woman’s blood
To be in the position of a man
Because my mother was able to transform into a father
Without a script yet the play the part so well.
So after all these years,
You have the nerve to message me on Facebook
Saying “I’m sorry, my child”
I try to surface goodness in my heart
But you have melted everything into a puddle of blood
That empties through my wrists
So now I am telling you
That I am letting you go
because you have no child here.

“The sun died every night
just to let the moon breathe.”

I shivered, as whispered screams and silent pain of fragmented hearts
Pierced through the atmosphere of comfortable lies and prison bars
Looking down upon streets filled with hushed crying in locked cars
******* the words “I’ve been left” in my palm filled with glass shards
I am looking at the moon, and I am reminded that there is still someone
That touches my soul and feeds me emotions when I thought I had none
I am looking at the moon.

It is 2:58 am and I am writing this to expel your fingerprints from my body
Because your being has covered my skin with memories of love and beauty
The dead beating of my heart cannot forget how it felt when you came near
How the mere mention of your name caused my eyes to only see you clear
I am looking at the moon, with its silver skin, gleaming light and mesmerizing craters
And I am reminded of what we were, how we were beautifully imperfect chapters
I am looking at the moon, again.

It is 3:15 am and I am still trying to forget how a love so beautiful can crumble
My heart’s still pumping blood that seems to heat when your image tumbles
We were something real; *we were lost fingertips that found home in each other’s palms
But time was too weak to grasp a love so soft, a love that resembles seas that were calm
You were the moon and I was an ocean, and I willingly let you pull at my veins
Causing a tidal wave of memories and unspoken words that left me insane
I am looking at the moon, still.

It is 3:41 am and I am still thinking about your hands and how they held an atlas
How you memorized maps of my surface and how beautiful things don’t really last
We were something beautiful and true and something that was bound to break
Our love was a forest of mixed rose bushes and thorns that time wanted to take
But don’t worry about me, the moon still listens, its light still glistens on my scars
And I can close my eyes knowing that *you and I still cry under the same moon.
So I will look at the moon, for as long as needed,
until your hands
aren’t my home
**anymore.

I walked through these pathways
Filled with bumps and craters
I walk always afraid
Cold and shivering from the pains of being alone

When I was willing to finish this journey
That I have traveled for the longest of times
These people came with a flashlight
Lightening the way with beams of hope and guidance

Our journeys were never simply serious
Because we were the type of people who never lost topics to talk about
Our circle was a fountain of thoughts and ideas
All fond of books and music that kept us alive

Even with all the uncertainties clouding above us
I knew we’d always be strong
Our closeness was something different
But different was what always bonded us together

We may have not been the perfect group of friends
But nevertheless I knew that this was a family unlike any other
Because when I’m feeling a little lost,
I know I’ll always have their hands to hold