I learned to question what love is by the way his hands felt.
The roughness that they always were.
The way they accompanied the glare
in his eyes and the smile on his face.
They way they grabbed,
pushed down,
held down,
the way they never let go.
I questioned his love when he used those hands
to sweep my hair back
and whisper in my ear,
telling me that this,
this is how daddies show their love
as his hands grazed my body.
He was the animal
I was the pasture.
I was filled with
green luscious grass
beautiful flowers
and a sunset
that mesmerized anyone
who watched it rise.
But he clawed away at my pasture,ripping it to shreds.
He poured hot acid all over me, now I am nothing
but a wasteland where nothing grows.
A place where nothing but darkness resides.
Patting me on the *** as he walks away as if to say
"that was a job well done"
"you did good"
I did good.
I let you destroy me.
I let your hands ruin
everything that was mine,
they reached inside my soul
pulled out what makes me real,
what makes me exist.
And now I lay in this bed as an empty shell of nothing
thinking of him,
hands....
hands,
hands everywhere
crawling all over me like spiders
always searching and looking to take more
when there is nothing left already.
I was once
beautiful
untouched
a delicate rose
who just wanted
to grow and bloom
become what I was meant to.
Then he came and cut me down
while telling me that he loved me.
I laid there dying
trying to reconnect my broken stems,
then he came again,
cutting me to pieces,
plucking off my beautiful petals
leaving me there as nothing,
leaving me there to wait
for the wind to ******* away.
Once I was untouched
and then the day came
that he told me he loved me
his hands molded a wasteland
out of my body like it was clay.
