I always see the end of things when they begin,
but none of my escape plans ever went anything like this
my emptiness is a bruise,
and it hurts to be touched
his hands aren't like your soft ones
and he can't see through me
I still beg him not to leave
because God, I'm so empty
I take off my skirt
my mouth is now a graveyard of his cells
I try to remember when my heart wasn't an empty casket
I wake up in mourning
I still felt you in my sleep
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
I always see the end of things when they begin,
but none of my escape plans ever went anything like this
my emptiness is a bruise,
and it hurts to be touched
his hands aren't like your soft ones
and he can't see through me
I still beg him not to leave
because God, I'm so empty
I take off my skirt
my mouth is now a graveyard of his cells
I try to remember when my heart wasn't an empty casket
I wake up in mourning
I still felt you in my sleep
Request permission to use this poem