When I see you my chest tightens
Suffocating under your stare
I can feel your hand around my throat
Pinning my body to the bed
Choking, gasping, crying

When I see you my skin crawls
I can feel your body
Forcing its way inside mine
Using me as an object
Made for your pleasure

When I hear you speak I taste blood
Biting my tongue
To keep your secret
I can hear every threat
You used to keep me quiet

"you're alright."
"it's just a panic attack."
"he's not here."

no, you don't understand.
he is here.
he never left.

he’s not in between my legs,
but he’s still invading my mind.

I don't feel like
myself anymore.

I'm not myself anymore,
not fully.

he's still inside of me.
he never left.

I am not going to tell you
what happened to me.

Because it will only
break your heart.

You might blame yourself.

And mother,
that would be a shame.

A man did this,
with his own two hands.

A society missed this,
with its averted gaze.

Genetics did this,
to us doe-eyed
and aesthetic.

You are not to blame.
I am not to blame.
We, women, are not to blame

Don't you ever tire of being in my dreams?
Don't you ever sleep?
You're there every night, it seems.
Don't you ever tire of running through my head?
Don't you ever ache?
Sometimes I dream you're dead.
Don't you ever tire of sitting in my brain?
Don't you feel guilt?
You're putting me through pain.
Don't you ever tire of being on my mind?
Don't you ever share?
My energy has declined.
Don't you ever tire of cracking on my skull?
Don't you ever go away?
This joke is getting dull.
Don't you ever tire of being my delusion?
Don't you understand?
You're the cause of my confusion.
Don't you ever tire of being in my dreams?
Don't you ever want peace?
You're with me every night, it seems.

you hold my hand under the
yellow light of a baptist church
praying to no god:
narcotics anonymous.

you introduce me but it doesn't feel like i'm yours
our clasped hands break apart as
a fifth marlbolo black slips
between your lips.

murmured conversations
secret promises
drift back and forth:
and my apparition
waits in the tepid
night.

i shift back and forth
through the golden amber haze: i could
lean back into the dim scraps of pavement
and no one would notice a thing.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

We don’t see the carrots to be cut,
We see the sharp knife that could cut us.

We don’t see the bridge,
We see the other side of the railings.

We don’t see painkillers,
We see medication we could drown ourselves in.

We don’t see the train,
We see the tracks we could lay on.

We don’t see the nice view,
We see the cliff's edge we could jump off.