I do not know what you want from me Don't know what I did wrong Can't tell if your feelings are real Or if you are stringing me along All I get Mixed signals One day interaction is great Next you show indifference Uncertainty what I hate Constantly attempting to figure you out What is running through your mind Comb through the words you offer Answers I never find I long for you to be forthcoming With your intentions What you're really after Something you don't mention
I can still remember the couch. The way I cried in my friend's arms when I thought of that couch. Pinned down. Abused. Forcefully used. On the couch.
I still remember going into my apartment alone after. The way my body shaked for nights spent crying in my bed after. At my friend's apartment after. In the hospital after. Years after.
They say the mind can forget sometimes, but what always remembers the trauma is the body. The one that kicked and fought off the body. The one that layed under the body. The violated body. The tortured body. The unsafe body.
was never the same. Not for me to blame.
I know that now.
If you or someone you know has been subjected to ****** assault. Please be aware that you can contact the ****** Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673 (US).
Cigarette buds Empty glasses Always a wine glass shatters Leftover biryani Leg bones The crease in the beds Sofa cushions on the floor Guests have left Empty house Just me and the wait for the next weekend.
at the end of the afterlife, when the dust finally settles, she climbs into a warm bed made of soft, wispy clouds, listening to lilting melodies, from her childhood memories, falling into a peaceful slumber.