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i was fifteen; disoriented; drunk on shame and a little ***** violated; infringed upon me like a school yard bully waiting to pounce upon his young victim i was dressed in white, a pure vacancy with every drink i was unknowingly inviting the lion making a bitter den for his carnal disposition-resentment a secret-i never promised to keep it we share blood! a casualty, unforgivably forgotten i wasn't able to bear the weight of his words any longer needed to relieve the tension building up in my somber, fragile, bones my apprentice was a slender, silver blade and i unlocked the beasts' crate-allowed him to flow through the wound like rain-underneath the bright streetlight on a december evening looking for anything to help me forget but the beast i set free, the beast was me! with that final laceration i desperately looked for the thread the thread that could stitch my hand back onto wrist but time became syrup-slowing and sticky and the moon shone on my left limb, wrongful display i reach for my pulse. drowning in the cold in my note-i should have apologized to the maid for having to clean up all my pain
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
The Night I Lost My Patience
i was fifteen; disoriented; drunk on shame and a little ***** violated; infringed upon me like a school yard bully waiting to pounce upon his young victim i was dressed in white, a pure vacancy with every drink i was unknowingly inviting the lion making a bitter den for his carnal disposition-resentment a secret-i never promised to keep it we share blood! a casualty, unforgivably forgotten i wasn't able to bear the weight of his words any longer needed to relieve the tension building up in my somber, fragile, bones my apprentice was a slender, silver blade and i unlocked the beasts' crate-allowed him to flow through the wound like rain-underneath the bright streetlight on a december evening looking for anything to help me forget but the beast i set free, the beast was me! with that final laceration i desperately looked for the thread the thread that could stitch my hand back onto wrist but time became syrup-slowing and sticky and the moon shone on my left limb, wrongful display i reach for my pulse. drowning in the cold in my note-i should have apologized to the maid for having to clean up all my pain
jade-m-matelski
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
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