one day
i might forget
the things you did
to me

and one day
i might not hate you
anymore

but when that day comes
i’m afraid
i might love you
all over again

a.g

I am driving but today the city smells
like combustion,
smog could be just so poetic.
I think about it
all, as I write these lines for you.
I am my own ink, yours
it doesn't feel the same.
As I think about you, my breath
blurs the car's window.

Fingers gliding over the cold crystal and over
me
wishing
you were here
and wishing you
would press your lips against my skin.
Whisper.

I sat there, silent tears falling off my not high - not sharp- cheekbones.
I sat there while you continued shoving yourself father down my throat.
            Did you know I was crying? Would you have cared?
I got up, and he looked at me sympathetically. As though he wasn't screaming at me, "You know you want this." "Come on. No one will know. No one has to know. It'll be quick."
            Did you not get the hint when I began lying there lifeless,
            almost, close enough? Did you not think to stop when I said
            no? When I couldn't find myself to look at you while you were
            committing your act? Would you have stopped if you could've
            heard my thoughts?
At least he had the decency to drive me home, this time.

I attempt to wash him completely out of me.
Scrub every inch of body because His hands have grazed over it all.

I fill the bath up with bubbles so I can't see my body's black and blue Bruises and scars that run so deep.
He likes to touch me with his rough hands. Feel me for what I am,
just another warm blooded girl.
But tell me what can I do except let it happen?

And then I turn the lights off so I'm left just to think.
Think and think until my mind goes blank,
And that's where I like it so my mind won't make up crazy stories like Real love and happiness.

My tears fill up the bathtub so I don't need to waste our water,
I spend my time crying until my eyes can't handle another tear.
My fingertips begin to wrinkle up,
So I drag myself out.

Motivation just seems to hurt more than his hits to my face.
I get out dry myself off and set my face in a clean coat of makeup like He likes, but not too much because I just look like a cheap *****,
and not too little because He tells me I look not pretty.
I put on that dress He tells me He just loves,
because it shows Him my curves, and hangs down real low. He knows it's just for Him.

I get out of the bathroom and am greeted by my love,
He's not red with horns and a flaming torch,
But I know for sure it's Him.

so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.

I love it when it rains.
I love it when it pours, and lightning and thunder crash down,
hard. I love it when the noise of the thunder quiets down the crashing plates and pans, because dad got a little tipsy tonight. I love it when I can run outside and completely ruin my day-to-day appearance. oh if only you knew how much I hate how I look everyday. when I can play in the rain, but only when no one is around. I can't let people believe I'm a child, again.
I love it when I'm alone.
I love it when the silence becomes so much that my thoughts are screaming at me like someone attending their favorite artists concert. I love it when I finally get the hint. I get the hint and shut up and put myself on mute. I always end up cracking, I can't help but spill the things that take place at night. Night. Don't you just love night? when the moon has rose and the stars are out. you receive those, "you up" texts. people are asleep and its just you sitting outside, running outside. running.
running is just beautiful, isn't it? amazing how you're feet can take you places, places you didn't know you wanted to go. you can leave, take off and never return if you'd like, but my feet always end up at you're door. and when you're done being pleased, my little feet run home. there's only a few tears this time! how exciting! I must celebrate. I'll crack open my newly bought pack of cigs, just to indulge in five at a time. It's just lovely watching the smoke dance. I can't ever get enough.
You can't either. maybe that's why I want you more than you would ever want me, because I can never get enough of you and you can never get enough of the joy you get out of being uh pleased.
what joy I get out of writing though. it's like when you can't speak to the people around you, whomever they are. you can sit and write down whatever you please. I could write about you or I could write about what I didn't eat. I can talk about how low my weights gotten(only a few more pounds to shred!!) or about the lovely book I've been reading.
I don't know where I went with this one though. I don't know where I went. "I don't know who you are" someone told me that and I've never been able to reply(still can't hehe) but I must close this up,
whatever this is. whatever I'm just as confused as you.