An unmeasurable amount of thought
has gone into the analyzing of my being
And why it was my fault that night
I decided to provoke you to such animosity
That I was greeted to a storm of fingers
ripping the cloth from my chest and falling like petals
On your bedroom floor I whimpered, crushed
under the heavy weight of you, Lover
As the thing I knew not belonged to me, but to you
and "No" was the last word I had ever spoke again.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
An unmeasurable amount of thought
has gone into the analyzing of my being
And why it was my fault that night
I decided to provoke you to such animosity
That I was greeted to a storm of fingers
ripping the cloth from my chest and falling like petals
On your bedroom floor I whimpered, crushed
under the heavy weight of you, Lover
As the thing I knew not belonged to me, but to you
and "No" was the last word I had ever spoke again.
Very old poem.
Don't contact me about this, as it is a very touchy subject. It has taken me a lot of courage and strength to get over this event and even more so to move on and grow from it, and hopefully turn tragedy into a work of art.
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