The devil is a boy
pretending to be a man,
who makes you feel
like you deserved
the unwanted advances.
And convinces you
that black and blue bruises
is the art upon your skin,
which he embellished on your thighs,
because you looked so
******* ****,
he couldn’t resist.

And now you
force a laugh and lie
and pretend
that each time
you see his face
you don’t cower away
in fear.
Silently wishing,
always praying
to the God that you don’t believe
loves you anymore.
Praying that this boy,
pretending to be a man
would burn in his flames.

But devils never die.

Even if I did that night.

it's unfair.

the control you have
over my heart
body
mind

you make my heart


skip
  a beat


            then two

just by the thought of you

after soaring so high
for so long,
you’d think the little bird would be relieved
when she gently laid upon ground,
giving her wings the deserved release,
but instead of relief
she was numb.
on the ground, she could see
that the blue skies she thought she loved
were covered in gray clouds.
though she heard the other birds
sing out to her
beckoning her to come and be happy,
she stayed.
let herself be alone.
knowing full well if she flew again too soon
she wouldn’t fly
she would crash onto land.

maybe then she’d feel relieved.

Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how

i do not feel compassion
for the man who made me
learn what it means to survive,
to come out the other side
with wounds that hide under
repressed skin, only to reveal themselves
as silence or black ice caught in
a flash of remembering;
i do not wonder what made him this way
think, did his mother hug him enough
when i hear his voice echoing
in nightmares where i cannot scream
and my legs feel like lead
burdened by the weight of all this baggage,
a torn up suitcase
filled with blood red bricks—
it does not meet the carry-on weight limit
and
i cannot unpack it.

He touched her richly
like king Midas.
Made her feel like
a queen dripping in gold.  

He made her believe
that she was his goddess.
Until her heart was
in his control.

He tossed her aside
after taking her all.
An unkind lover,
who damaged her soul.

He smiled at her sweetly,
as he took and he stole.
a golden king,
with a black heart of coal.

She cried, and she wept,
for this snake on a throne,
Now like Medusa,
her heart is of stone.