Dec 2014
These late nights I spend my time
staring at a wooden ceiling
with little plastic stars on them, reliving every ounce of pain you poured through me. Every time I cried out in pain, you laughed with pleasure. Every time I begged for you to stop, you only made it worse out of your own satisfaction. Every time I believed the lies, you let me because of your own insecurities.
The blue and purple marks faded but here I am a year and a half later still feeling their sting. Here I am, unable to have intimacy because of your lack to do so when you were given the chance. The chance I regret giving you. And the one after that. And the other hundreds of times I let you crawl back in and convince me, things were going to be different.
The feeling of being pinned has lifted but you're weight still holds me down to where I can't get up. Forcing me to wait until the time passes and you are finished with your masochistic games. You use your strength to your advantage and take my only form of innocents you haven't already stripped.
On nights like these, the flash backs take over, consuming my ability to tell up from down. Remembering is almost worse than living the memories that broke me long ago. Why? Because now it isn't only hurting me. Because now it gets in the way of me being able to give the one person who deserves to have me completely my intimacy. Because now, even though years have passed, you still manage to push me down when I try to get back up.
I see your anger in life playing out around me. I see your cruelty in even the smallest reactions. Your vision of red still drowns me when I receive a compliment as simple as "you're beautiful". Your need to hurt the ones who show you loyalty makes paranoia creep into my mind. Your desire for control build a wall so strong inside of me I appear to be soulless.
All those months of being worthless and helpless and good for nothing, being told I was ugly and a **** and how no one could ever love me. All those months etched in my heart with a dagger which drips with your blood none of which to be true.
You made me into your own insecurities. You made me soulless. You made me break over and over again. You stripped me of innocents. You took what I wouldn't give and left me blue and purple.
But I guess this is what I deserve for making a deal with the devil. Late nights staring at a wooden ceiling with traces of little plastic innocents
taunting me with something I can never get back.
staring at a wooden ceiling
with little plastic stars on them, reliving every ounce of pain you poured through me. Every time I cried out in pain, you laughed with pleasure. Every time I begged for you to stop, you only made it worse out of your own satisfaction. Every time I believed the lies, you let me because of your own insecurities.
The blue and purple marks faded but here I am a year and a half later still feeling their sting. Here I am, unable to have intimacy because of your lack to do so when you were given the chance. The chance I regret giving you. And the one after that. And the other hundreds of times I let you crawl back in and convince me, things were going to be different.
The feeling of being pinned has lifted but you're weight still holds me down to where I can't get up. Forcing me to wait until the time passes and you are finished with your masochistic games. You use your strength to your advantage and take my only form of innocents you haven't already stripped.
On nights like these, the flash backs take over, consuming my ability to tell up from down. Remembering is almost worse than living the memories that broke me long ago. Why? Because now it isn't only hurting me. Because now it gets in the way of me being able to give the one person who deserves to have me completely my intimacy. Because now, even though years have passed, you still manage to push me down when I try to get back up.
I see your anger in life playing out around me. I see your cruelty in even the smallest reactions. Your vision of red still drowns me when I receive a compliment as simple as "you're beautiful". Your need to hurt the ones who show you loyalty makes paranoia creep into my mind. Your desire for control build a wall so strong inside of me I appear to be soulless.
All those months of being worthless and helpless and good for nothing, being told I was ugly and a **** and how no one could ever love me. All those months etched in my heart with a dagger which drips with your blood none of which to be true.
You made me into your own insecurities. You made me soulless. You made me break over and over again. You stripped me of innocents. You took what I wouldn't give and left me blue and purple.
But I guess this is what I deserve for making a deal with the devil. Late nights staring at a wooden ceiling with traces of little plastic innocents
taunting me with something I can never get back.
