Ripped Open
She trusted.
She opened herself like a book,
page after page,
word after word,
and they tore her apart,
smiling while they did it.
They lied.
Every word a blade,
every promise a trap.
They said love,
but meant control.
They said care,
but meant cruelty.
She was used.
Dragged across the floor of their desires,
treated like nothing,
like a toy,
like she had no voice to scream with,
no skin to claim as her own.
She was cheated on.
And each betrayal carved deeper
into her chest,
into her mind,
into the part of her that wanted to trust.
They manipulated her,
twisted her thoughts,
made her doubt herself
even when she knew the truth.
And when she cried for justice,
the world turned its back.
She was assaulted.
Her body stolen,
her soul shaken,
her safety annihilated.
And the shame—oh, the shame—
was theirs to inflict,
but somehow she carried it too.
She feels broken.
Like glass crushed underfoot,
like fire doused before it can burn,
like she’s screaming
but the air won’t come.
Anger boils in her chest.
Rage she wants to throw at everyone
who ever touched her with lies,
who ever smiled while breaking her,
who ever whispered,
“You’ll never be enough.”
Her heart aches.
Her mind spins.
She’s tired of the pretending,
tired of swallowing tears,
tired of pretending she’s fine
when everything inside is screaming.
And yet—somewhere under the debris,
she breathes.
Somewhere under the rage and the pain,
she’s still here.
Still raw.
Still trembling.
Still alive.
But don’t tell her to forgive.
Don’t tell her to move on.
She isn’t done feeling.
She isn’t done fighting.
She isn’t done breaking down
and shoving herself back together
piece by shattered piece.
She is angry.
She is bleeding.
She is broken.
And for now,
that is enough.
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 5:47 PM UTC
Ripped Open
She trusted.
She opened herself like a book,
page after page,
word after word,
and they tore her apart,
smiling while they did it.
They lied.
Every word a blade,
every promise a trap.
They said love,
but meant control.
They said care,
but meant cruelty.
She was used.
Dragged across the floor of their desires,
treated like nothing,
like a toy,
like she had no voice to scream with,
no skin to claim as her own.
She was cheated on.
And each betrayal carved deeper
into her chest,
into her mind,
into the part of her that wanted to trust.
They manipulated her,
twisted her thoughts,
made her doubt herself
even when she knew the truth.
And when she cried for justice,
the world turned its back.
She was assaulted.
Her body stolen,
her soul shaken,
her safety annihilated.
And the shame—oh, the shame—
was theirs to inflict,
but somehow she carried it too.
She feels broken.
Like glass crushed underfoot,
like fire doused before it can burn,
like she’s screaming
but the air won’t come.
Anger boils in her chest.
Rage she wants to throw at everyone
who ever touched her with lies,
who ever smiled while breaking her,
who ever whispered,
“You’ll never be enough.”
Her heart aches.
Her mind spins.
She’s tired of the pretending,
tired of swallowing tears,
tired of pretending she’s fine
when everything inside is screaming.
And yet—somewhere under the debris,
she breathes.
Somewhere under the rage and the pain,
she’s still here.
Still raw.
Still trembling.
Still alive.
But don’t tell her to forgive.
Don’t tell her to move on.
She isn’t done feeling.
She isn’t done fighting.
She isn’t done breaking down
and shoving herself back together
piece by shattered piece.
She is angry.
She is bleeding.
She is broken.
And for now,
that is enough.
This is a poem about being used, manipulated, cheated on, and assaulted in a relationship
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