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Emily Hill Sep 2014
You stripped me of my innocence.
Yours were the first lips
To press passion onto my stunted ****.
My body bruised by your touch,
Your forked tongue hissed through gritted teeth,
Caress me, as your hands rattle
With anger, desire.
Testosterone fulled triggers
Blew holes into my anatomy,
Ripping apart my flesh.
Now I tie stitches where skin should be,
I'm bleeding out my purity.
The beads of sweat, roll downwards,
Trickling off your looming armour.
They dance with the oceans in my eyes.
Itching spiders romance with the bones
Upon my empty corpse.
Hollow reeking mass,
Devoured by play pretend.
Love lead way to self devouring devotion,
We play on ties with lit matchsticks.
Broken, singed strings,
Where my innocence should lie.
Emily Hill Sep 2014
I hate being angry,

At you, it makes me want to tear my eyes out and force them down your throat. If you ‘love’ me so much why do you reduce me to a pain that stretches across my chest as salt water crashes to the ground? You asked me why I was crying. I wanted to scream – it’s you! The way you half-heartedly avoided my worries as if to dismiss my heart from loving and to tear pieces from my skin and discard them with memories. You looked at me and turned away, I wanted to scream at you to give a ****. No, I wanted to scream at myself to give a ****.

Because in that moment you turned away, everything changed. As if my heartbeats rhythm became aligned with reality once more and my heart detached from you. Fading into insignificance, an imprint of loneliness in my hollow brain. The pictures of you etched behind my eyes were fading and with every tear drop, my love for you was drained into dry skin and tequila.

I wish I gave a ****.

But my stupid ****** friends looked upon me with more care than your weary eyes and no matter how many times you tell me you love me, why did you leave me alone that night?

‘I don’t know why I’m crying’ I replied.

— The End —