Bring forth the rite of war! Rage on, bully, bully! For forth we ride, on a steed called Heart, Into the gnashing of teeth between competing lovers. Your attention, my own, I wish it to be, Never to let this happen again.
Is this a battle for your heart, Akin to Helen's heart for Troy? A war for your love? What may he fight for, what shall he win? I shall fight like a soldier of antiquity, Like a Greecian God amongst Peloponnesian hordes, For the spot in your heart called Your one and only.
I hope you read this some day Long after we’re both already married and it hurts less to say my name, even less to think of the way you used to moan mine, I hope time heals all like they say it should I hope you read this some day And think of what we could have had And smile like I hope I do I hope it doesn’t hurt I hope you hope so, too
Partial to a past that explained my experiences in a causal tone. Like a story that had to unfold, I made sure it made sense because I felt myself losing control. I had to have control of it. Apologies for every mistake I’d ever made because amending my wrongs was praying for one night without terrors. Tug of war with God. Cause and effect. I earned my hurt. I earned my hurt.
People that believe in karma drive me ******* nuts. Plagued with guilt from my childhood because I got ***** at 21 and I thought maybe if I had been nicer to Cassandra B on the playground at 9 maybe I could have kept my dignity that night in my dorm room. But it doesn’t work like that.
I have survivor’s hands. *****, calloused, jealous hands. I am not innocent, I am vindictive and manipulative and when I argue with the person I love I get mean. When I talk to myself in the mirror, I am cruel. I am not innocent. I was a bully as a child. I thought all of these things were a part of the reason why someone took my body from me when I was 21.