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

SA Trigger Warning*

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.

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.

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.

The Body

After

The Couch...

was never the same.
Not for me to blame.

I know that now.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, things can get brutal?:>



lost and found not seen not bound in the shackles of the bomb an aftermath

peroxiding a shoe hoping to get a flight out of the stew

no one knew

a chase a run a place no fun with bullets upon

in the known classes I see of drops of Mercury

behold bewined stand still in what you crime

hidden on those of the faces before

swept under the rug just for show

before the glint to come from below


                                                                        ------ravenfeels