Oil on water

Sliding over me
This slippery
Never-ending reality

Grasping at nothing
Downward cascading
Hardly even breathing

Silk on silk

Words die on my lips
Things falling from my fingertips
My world caught in apocalypse

Everything gliding away
With each passing day
Everything fades to grey

by Arcassin Burnham

Started with a few hardships,
You were my only friend to depend on,
Midnights , where we would call in the a.m,
You said I was the only one that made It right,

Started with a few love notes,
That we would pass in class after periods,
We would kiss, where they could not find us,
You said I was the only one that made you cry in a good way.

You weren't there , so don't you say,
Don't you say you were,
You never cared,
Don't you say you loved me like the past didn't happen
Then and there , and now we're here.

Started with a few arguments,
everyone you knew had a hand in it too,
Always , breaking up was hard to do,
You said I made you drift apart from everything good,
You said , you just needed time apart,
But you didn't love me from the start.

You weren't there , so don't you say,
Don't you say you were,
You never cared,
Don't you say you loved me like the past didn't happen
Then and there , and now we're here.
Ended with a few lies too,
Your brother told you I had cheated with another.

The best words
and lines
and moments
I cannot use

they are too personal
precious
private
to ever be heard
seen
by anyone


but me

I heard the lines you never said.
I care for you,
but not as much I do for her.
I love you,
but not as much as I love her.
For I was the girl that could never make you happy
as much as her smile simply did.

What does one do when the lines of the meaning of love are blurred for a girl at the age of fourteen?
When a girl is pinned down to a bed even though she said
No
No
No
But let it happen because she thought that was how relationships were supposed to be.

Maybe he didn’t listen because I’m wrong
This is meant to happen
I’m his girlfriend.
I should be okay with him groping me.
Stop being so uncomfortable.
Stop squirming underneath his grasp.
Stop trying to pry his fingers off of your breast as he laughs at your struggle.
He’s your boyfriend.
He loves you.
This is okay.

It must be okay
Because the pattern continued.
It must just be love when your boyfriend tries to touch you in untouched places while you’re trying to sleep
At the age of fifteen.
I’d never been touched there before
I’d never even touched myself there before.
And I had never felt any more uncomfortable in my whole life
But who was I to say
No.
It was love,
Right?

And it wasn’t assault, right?
Surely I- a young, normal girl- didn’t become a victim of ****** assault
Right?
I didn’t say no.
I was too scared to say no.
I was too scared that the words
No
No
No
Became lost in my mouth
And my eyes were stuck shut because they were too scared
Too see the kind of  love he was giving me.

And I wanted to leave but I couldn’t
Because love is supposed to be this way.
I never had a physical experience showing otherwise.
This must be love
The lines are not blurred.
This is how it is.

For a moment I thought that maybe
I wasn’t wrong.
That this repetition of touching
That this lack of approval
Was wrong.
My body is my body
I’m not found strung on the shelves of *** shops
Or delivered in a package with a bow on top
Spread across the table for a man’s full course meal.
No.
I am a person
And just because I have ******* and curves and a vulnerable physique does not mean I am up for grabs--

He told me he loved me
But if that was love that was no love of mine
And I told him
No
No
No.
I exposed him
I may have been in tears but I told him I knew everything that he had been doing to me and I called out his love

And he
He
Did not apologize.
He did not explain himself to me.
He just told me that
It was okay.
I was okay.

Because that’s right.
I am nothing
I am nothing
How silly of me to think otherwise
How silly of me that I almost forgot that I am nothing more
Than an object for you to touch how you please.
Who needs sleep
When the man can’t wait
For you to wake up
For consent
For you to yell
No
No
No.

Because who am I to say no?

The youth have charged us by storm
You soul is soft, weathered, yet tough.
Even though the thread is thin
We hold tight with a fatal grip.
After prolonged, inevitable erosion
It would make sense to simply let go.

To paint the line we’ve created
A string must measure the length
Of how much time it’s been
To find the end of the string
Is one no soul keeps in mind.
All we unconsciously ache for
Is the end of the line.

How sad that is.

There on the tar
Lies paint with a purpose
We wander too far
Over the lines of hierarchy
Destined to face the consequences
Set by the ones whose eyes
Have experienced this all before.

Troubled souls state simply
That lines are meant to be crossed
They say this with impulse in limbs
With zero regard for the tarnished ending.
Souls of this demeanor
Will never wholy construct the finish
Solely being because of velocity.

You’ve state the line is blurred
The paint is worn or faded
Yet I still stand here listening.
This road has been shattered by youth
The less weathered assume the sun
Would’ve dried the paint by now.
Little do they know
The paint has always been wet.