When I was 15, I got down on my knees like a dog because
He   told    me     to.
Gripping my head like I was some sort of
toy he could do what he wanted with.
‘yeaaaah, that feels good’ he’d tell me as he shoved
himself
d
  e
    e
      p
        e
          r
‘you look so good down there when you do that’
as if the compliments really made up for the
broken ego, and self debilitating hate.
But how was I to know back then
what it meant to
deceive
my body? Always being told to
suppress my appetite in hopes of pleasing
some guy.
As if my body wasn’t beautiful enough.

When I was 15, I sold my body for a
Lously ****-
Because I was told
‘that’s how you prove you love me’

I traded innocence, and dignity for
Surety and cried out
L O V E
Because
that’s all I ever really wanted.

As if love was being humiliated and
Degraded,
Over and o v e r & o v e r
Again by someone who only ever
Treated me like a piece of meat-

Eventually, I got sick of waiting
for you to
l o v e  me
and tell me all the things I
wanted to hear
because subconsciously,
I KNEW that
Was never going to happen.

So when I was 15,
instead of completely giving up,
I found a better way to fill the void of my
discontented, broken heart
with the sound of an empty bottle hitting the floor-
A sound much better than the never ending sobs
And begging
for something more than just a degrading
Pick up line, or half drunk conversation.

And eventually I got sick of that,
Too. And then it occurred to me.
I’m not 15 anymore.

If I ever let myself think that I was
Worthless or disgusting or useless
Because of your inability to see past
The size of my jeans, or depth of my throat,
I was an idiot.

If I ever thought I NEEDED you
Or that the definition of L O V E
Was to give your entire being to a person
for absolutely nothing in return,
I was gravely mistaken.

Because I am better off on my
O W N.
I deserve much more than
Anything you had to offer.