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Noelle M Eithun Jan 2020
I let them tear at my insides
Rip me open and take what they want
I’m lying helpless. Spread open. Exposed.
I wouldn’t dare look them in the eye.
One by one I feel their weight lift off me
as they get their fill and move on.
I’m left alone.
I wipe their saliva off my ribcage and hug my insides together.
I start to feel my heart beating again.
I can feel it echo throughout
my hollowed chest
I lift myself up and start to walk.
I can see more scavengers in the distance
I close my eyes, wincing from the pain.  
And continue to walk toward them.
A huge metaphor. But I never understood why I kept coming back to it. I would feel utterly gutted after, and still showed up the next time.
Caro Mar 2019
It's March in California and,
It feels like an early September evening in Virginia,
An owl is cooing,
A nostalgic singsong that reminds me of the woods behind my parents house,
Comfort seekers in my senses inflate,
Disappearing into a heady haze,
Anything to distract myself from the mini self-betrayal I just executed.

I can watch myself as I do it,
Basking in this nostalgia,
The detachment from my pain easing my shoulders,
Making me feel high,
Or maybe it's the serotonin and dopamine,
Coursing around in my body,
As it pleases,
Results of.

The owl is howling and my roommate is home,
My phone is silent and I'm blissfully alone,
Detachment, detachment, detachment,
My favorite drug, how I've missed you.

So sickly happy,
So near to trauma,
(my familiar place)
But my perspective saving me from feeling it..

I could be in Virginia in 2008,
My legs a little hairy,
A breeze blowing through my long, long hair,
Innocence teasing me.

Or I could be here, now,
Listening for an owl that has stopped calling.

How delicious. Sweet detachment.

My favorite drug.
Awesome Annie Jun 2015
He takes my hand in his,
tilting his head so his brown eyes turn into me.
He's looking to hard,
with such intensity,
I feel myself folding like crumbled paper.

I don't really know him..
I look at him as he presses me to have another drink,
I already know how tonight will end,
me intoxicated and foolish.

I suppressed the thought of someone else,
his lips met mine so intensely.
Hands tugging through my hair,
mouth gasping stolen sentiments,
as he takes me greedily in his bed.

My hands shake,
and I feel bare as we collide,
my long thin body intertwined with his.
Alcohol making my skin warm,
his body busting after what feels like not long.

I know when I awake in the morning,
that I'll feel incomplete.
the part of me given to him missing,
another notch on this man's belt,
and another unspoken name on my list.
Awesome Annie Feb 2015
He showed up with flowers I didn't deserve.
My hair uncontrollable and my dress to short.
He said my name but it held no meaning in his mouth,
spit out without savouring.
I didn't know what to say when he expressed my beauty.

To much wine can make me bold.
Mouth has no filter,
cheeks flushed pink and my smile to free.
My laughter bursting brightly.
I began to notice his smile,
the silkiness of his voice.

He took my hand in his and there was no spark,
no strangled butterflies.
I fumbled awkwardly and he stared to hard.
Eyes unreadable and yet I already knew.

He asked to come in and it hit me,
that I was tired of dreaming of you at my window,
I'm always sitting on the edge of sorrow.

He kissed me so deeply that it's amazing he didn't steal my breath.

******* me with eager hands,
his lips lost on skin.
Eyes closed tightly,
I embrace the moment of letting someone in.
To rough and undeserving,
no emotion,
just need.
Dionne Taylor Nov 2014
it's difficult to describe
why your body chooses to spend weekends
alone surrounded
by the slimy tongues and bottled self esteem
take another hit
while your mind explores the chip on his front tooth or the sweat dripping off his eyebrow
your body takes the pounding while it whispers in your ear how little you mean and you tremble at the thought of being handcuffed
you wonder if he remembered your middle name
or noticed the way that when you breathe in your collar bone protrudes
ill ring for you
The addictive and self-destructive nature of casual ***.

— The End —