Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aspen S Nov 2017
at a young age,
i learned no one’s safe
when he pulled my tiny frame close,
tugging on my hair,
and not letting go;
i ripped away,
yet failed.

his tongue slithered down my throat,
his hands were cold and hard as stone
against my exterior,
endlessly taking and taking,
and in that moment,
i was numb,
toes frozen,
the screams held within
and arms sewn to the bed
beneath his feet.

my body is stolen and
tainted with his
poisonous sins
gripped within my skin;
i am unclean.

i still feel your eyes trailing along
my abdomen,
burning into my soul,
and your lips bruising my own
as you pressed down harder whilst
fondling every inch of my figure
to no avail.

twelve years later,
with red eyes and a foggy head,
i sleep alone,
fearing that ill drown
in my own sheets.

it was “me too” whom let the devil
consume my innocence
until i was light-headed and limp.

i’ve given up struggling and surviving
for i knew that after that night
i would never be free again,
because,
why live when there’s
no more of me to own?
why fight when i can just die alone?

i’ve left and there’s no going back.
why do people have to be so disgusting? i have yet to completely wash his smell off of me.
Victoria Nov 2017
When I got ***** for the first time
The first thing I did was take a showe
And ever since then I take showers as hot as can
The second time I was *****
I got pregnant
But had no baby
The third time I got *****
Was so bad
The doctors say I may never conceive a child again
The fourth time I got *****
I finally told the police
Its been 3 years now and they still have done nothing
The fifth time I was *****
I wrote a poem of all the times I was *****
To see if maybe
It would let me go to sleep
Im 23
This has been going on for 8 years now
And I can't help but feel like it's me
BR Nov 2017
This is not a beautiful story.
This is about you and me.
This is about two common thieves who could never see the forest for the trees,
and every word we breathed to one another in the spaces in between,
choosing to believe that we were anything but sinking vessels,
rending holes in the other’s heart-
this is about you and me in the dark,
sinking to the bottom of the sea.

See, this is not a beautiful story.

But the narrative you crafted was of two lovers in a romance, and you said that it was best that we keep it in the darkness, under the ironic promise that it was in the name of honesty to be fostered between us-
I suppose I wanted to believe it.

I was yours, and you were my secret.

But no heart ever knew a secret that didn’t grieve it, and it grieves me to think of unveiling my beauty meant for another man beneath the wandering of your hands,
and you said you didn’t understand why there were tears in my eyes.

Well neither did I,
but it still keeps me awake at night.

And I didn’t know it, but every time we parted you went home to finish what we started

alone in the dark with your computer screen.

This is not a beautiful story.

You used to say that we were more than the chemicals responding in our bodies,
like what we had was more than lonesome, broken misery masquerading as intimacy,

but it wasn’t.

You just needed a warm body
and I needed to be enough for somebody
we could never alleviate the pain we were trying to escape,
and If I could see you today, I would tell you that I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.
A Henslo Oct 2017
I don't want to be taken for granted
I don't want to be taken
I want to give
Ashwin Kumar Oct 2017
You have no idea
What it's like, to be a woman
Everyday is a baptism by fire
As she walks on the street
Hundred hands appear
From nowhere, as if conjured
By a deft flick
Of a magician's wand
A magician who sends chills
Down the length of her spine
Chills that surpass even those
On a wintry night in Antarctica
Leaving her frozen
Till every bone stands still
As she is stripped of her dignity
Reduced to a shadow of her self

She strains every sinew in her throat
As she sends out a distress signal
Which fails to be intercepted
As the people look on
Some with fear
Some with sheer indifference
Some with a perverse interest
But none answer the call of duty
The call which is as basic
As the need for oxygen

You have no idea
What it's like, to be a woman
As she heads home
Seeking much needed solace
She is instead upbraided
For wearing a short skirt
For walking alone in the night
For not being a lady

As she fails to get support
From the family she holds dear
As a shipwreck survivor
Barely floating in freezing waters
Clings on to that piece of wood
Her self-esteem nosedives
Like that fateful Air India flight
That crashed at Mangalore
And shifts the blame onto herself
For not understanding the men
Who've brought her to this state
And succumbs to Stockholm Syndrome
Completing a vicious circle
Leaving men and the patriarchy winners
Winners who deserve the title
As much as a student
Who clears his trimesters
Using bits of paper
Tucked neatly inside his shoes
To all men who think light of the issues faced by women in everyday life
Meg Oct 2017
Picking at every fibre in my soul.  

Trying to get you out.

But every time i remove a bit of you it leaves a mark. 

A mark of you.
Please don’t say not all men, when me too
becomes me three, me four, then twenty,
two thousand, too many for boy to be boys
or locker room talk.

We can’t talk away when men power grab
for things they have no right to touch,
with 140 characters insincere apologizes.

It’s time to man up and speak out and say
that being a gentleman is more than chairs and doors.
It’s less bro fists, shrugs and awkward laughs.
Instead, it is not cool bro, and really man you know better.

Because we know better, we know what goes on behind
closed doors, and only dealing with it when the doors are open
is not a solution but a symptom of the problem.

Being a nice guy does not give you access to her thighs.
Compliments don’t allow you to pass judgements
and what she wears, where she goes and what she does
does not mean a free pass.

If this culture thinks silence is permission
than I will be loud until no one has to say me too.
I'm not a woman but I can do my part and speak out
BR Oct 2017
He drew a figure eight on my spine, absentmindedly,
and traced the nape of my neck with his fingertip when he said,
“You are beautiful to me.”

But the ellipsis in the silence spoke louder than he did, and the look in his eye was not born because I was lovely;
It was not because he loved me.

A thing too small for love-
But far too large to be lust;

Simple. Ugly.

He looked at me like he was hungry.

So sweetly he critiqued each curve, every line, blurring my edges with the images of every bent perception pulled from the mire of his mind;

and I
could not
satisfy


Pretty innocence diminished in the grip of his vice,
Pressed tight against my body, despised in dark eyes.
I am not the inhuman creatures you contrived in the middle of the night.
I am not the feminine expression of your ******* pride.

What a wicked crime,
to take a woman’s body and leave the woman behind.
Aaron LaLux Oct 2017
“Please be careful with my left ******.”,

her request comes with a clutching of my hair,
and a gentle yet firm pulling of my head,
away from her right breast,
and into the nape of her neck,

“Why?”,

I ask,
innocent enough,
as I settle into,
my repositioned position.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Of course I do,
that’s why I asked.”

“Well, I had a surgery last year,
I had a tumor in my breast,
and had to have a surgery,
it was actually quite risky and I’m lucky to be alive.”

“Oh.”

I reply.

When anyone says anything so intense and so real,
there is only one of two ways to truly respond,
either with an equal amount of intensity,
or with a mellow affirmation of unconditional acceptance,

I accept when,
she offers her Truth,
and I see that she is an old soul,
even though her body’s still in it’s youth,

you,
can judge if you want to,
I’m in my 30’s and she’s 22,
but honestly with Love there are no rules,

when love abruptly finds you,
at the intersection of two soul’s life’s paths,
particularly when the two souls are travelers,
specifically when those two travelers are traveling,
you have two options,
1.) ignore every instinct to embrace each other or,
2.) plunge head first in the type of leap of faith that only love knows,

I choose the latter,
later,
we find ourselves again,
flowing in a whirlpool of pheromones,

where I find myself,
with my hand upon her mouth,
holding her breath,
to the point of panic,

see I’d always found pleasure in pain,
I suppose it’s a form of perverse dominance,
but the truth is anytime anyone feels uncomfortable,
whatever you’re doing is the opposite of what romance is,

anyways,

just as she teeters on the brink of asphyxiation,
she tears my hand away,
not nearly as gently as she’d pulled my head away,
just a few hours earlier in the evening,

soon,
tears swell and break her eyelashed levees,
bathing her cheeks and my shoulders,
in the salty brine of past torments,

the storm went,
on for hours,
her sentiments the storm clouds,
my shoulder the conscious ground on which she showered,

or rather the conscience ground on which she showered,

finally,
I asked her,
why what I had done,
had caused such an effect,
I mean,
I know,
what I did was wrong,
but honestly this many tears I did not expect,

“Please,
tell me,
why so many tears,
is it what happened now or what happened in past years?”

She pauses,
takes a breath,
then continues,
where she’d earlier left,

“When I was ten,
I almost drowned,
my brother threw me in a pool,
I hit my head and became momentarily paralyzed.”,

her pair of eyes,
staring directly into mine,
I saw in that instant,
that as strong as she was/is/will be,
she is still just such a little girl,
so fragile and breakable,
as intelligent as she was/is/will be,
she is still learning and growing and,

I see how wrongly I’ve treated her,
I see how much she’s been through in the past,
and I want to apologize for everything,
I want to take every misguided action back,

she gave me her trust completely,
and I all did was stab her in the back,

and I want to take back every misguided action but I can’t,
because the past has passed,
so instead of trying to go back,
or give her misused excuses I answer the only way I can,

“I’m so sorry.”,

“I apologize,
on behalf of all men,
and I'm not asking for our memories to be forgot,
I'm just asking for our memories to be forgiven,

because memories are tricky things,
and we both have our own versions,
but either way one thing I can say definitely,
is consent isn’t meant to mean yes when it’s said through coercion,

so again I must say I apologize,
on behalf of all men I offer this apology,
I can’t even pretend my actions were justified,
please forgive us for we know not what we did and we’re sorry,

we messed up completely,
I accept that completely,
we deserve to be ridiculed and shamed,
we don't deserve you we lost you when we lost our dignity,

we fck up totally,
we didn’t know what else to do,
but what’s someone to do when they’re as lost as you,
and no this isn’t meant as an excuse it's just the truth,

because we both know that excuses,
just lead to more abuses,
so this not an exercise in excuses this is an honest apology,
this is exactly what the truth is,

and I don’t know what else to say,
other than I’ll never ever repeat those mistakes,
please the only thing worse than getting my heart broken,
is seeing I’m the cause of someone else’s heartbreak,

see we’ve all been through,
too much trauma it’s true,
see we’ve all been ignored and abused,
definitely you and yes even me too,”....

Me.
Too.

See when anyone says anything so intense and so real,
there is only one of two ways to truly respond,
either with an equal amount of intensity,
or with a mellow affirmation of unconditional acceptance,

and,

I.
Am.
So.
Sorry.

I’ve been entirely too rough with her,
subconsciously inflicting her,
with not so subtle hints of,
all the miseries I’ve been through,

she does not deserve this,
I do not deserve this we do not deserve this,
she/I/we deserve to be in love’s service,
not servants to a fake love that’s perverted and hurts us,

she deserves just,
to be treated of course
equally unconditionally,
with delicate care and support,

I deserve,
to be treated of course
equally unconditionally,
with delicate care and support,

I need to be a strong man,
not a scared little boy,
a real man treats females as strong women,
not as weak little toys,

I need to treat her exactly like I strong man should,
and return to feel her gratitude,
see true strength comes from a place of love,
hate is weak love is tough,

and we are tough enough to change our course,

and I apologize because everyone makes mistakes,
but not everyone admits them,
and that is the difference,
between a real man and a fake one,

there's not a single person out there,
that has not messed up,
so if you think someone's perfect,
they aren't they just haven't confessed yet.

You are too real with me,
for me to be fake with you,
and yeah we are all broken,
but help me fix me and I'll help you fix you.

We deserve to be presently in love,
without having to drag any of our past pains into this,
and when I think of how much I hurt you,
it makes me want to take a knife and slash my wrist,
makes my heart plummet and my stomach feels tight,
makes me want to throw myself up out of me I feel so sick,
makes me want to punch myself in the head,
makes me want to swim away never come back and cut off my d!ck,

makes me want to forget,
makes me want to drown out the memories with alcohol,
makes me want to take recreational drugs to try and forget,
because I don’t want to remember or recall,

I just want to cleanse myself of myself,
just fckn want to **** myself I'm so riddled with guilt,
but if I’ve seen my mistakes and am ready to correct them,
then what good is going to come from killing myself?

Because the ones that feel the least guilty,
are usually the ones that’ve caused the greatest crimes,
so instead of choosing death which would solve nothing,
I decide to correct my wrongs and choose life,

I decide to listen more,
to treat all women as Universal Sisters,
which brings me to the next chapter of this story,
where after she admits to me I admit to her,

see she admits,
of her flirt with death,
when she was ten,
and then it’s my turn to admit this,

“My little sister drowned,
when I was 12,
due to my abusive stepfather’s negligence,
she drowned five days before her first birthday.

The wings tattooed on my back,
are in honor of her,
for she is my Guardian Angel,
she keeps Death at my doorstep but does not let Him in,
even though He incessantly knocks,
and one day He’ll get his way,
I never want to hurt you again Love,
and in honor of my little sister that passed away,
and all of the women and girls including you,
I’m changing my ways,
and there’s no better time than now,
so I’m starting right now right here today.”.

Now it is her turn to respond,
still teary-eyed she turns to me and says,
“I’m so sorry,
and thank you.”

“It’s okay my stepdad was a horrible man,
and my little sister is probably better off on the other side,
I’m sure I’ll be seeing her soon anyways,
plus I saw a rainbow above when she died,
and I took the rainbow above when she passed,
as a good omen and a good sign.”,

the tears finally recede,
and the smiles come like rainbows after a hard rain,
see the truth is all this we live is poetry,
see sometimes to feel joy we need to first feel pain,

relating to someone else’s pain is all we really need,
to not feel so bad though it is somewhat sad,
that human experience experiences so much sadness,
and must have such a painfully poetic path.

It is a miracle,
that after all her and I have been through,
after the damage that’s been done to us,
including both of us being sexually abused,
that we are even able to trust at all,
and not just to trust but to love at all,
to let down our walls,
and to feel anything at all,

honestly,
so many have just turned off,
and the fact that we are still on,
and we are in love is a testimony,
to the overcoming power of love,
to the healing power of love,
and to the graces of unconditional acceptance,

I accept her,
and all of her scars,
unconditionally,
and we will work together to build a better tomorrow,

and she accepts me,
and all of my scars,
unconditionally,
and we will work together to build a better tomorrow.

There's a world of hurt out there,
and we all have something to say just need a platform,
so find someone out there that needs some help,
and show them some unconditional support.

The world is not perfect,
and neither are we,
but the world is beautiful,
and so too are we,

so we ride into the future’s unknown,
grateful for the lessons that help us grow,
and we appreciate our moments here together,
because we both know all too well that everybody goes,

so,

find someone to love,
and please be gentle,
and remember to be kind and touch with care,
whether it's the heart the soul or the ******,

let's be kind,
and also be strong,
and let's embrace these moments,
before we're both forever gone...

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

author/poet/human
In Solidarity
Kyra Wilder Oct 2017
For the women with nightmares, bruised hips, fat lips, bodies that are turned into statistics and wrists that are put under a microscope.

For the women who have had the courage to be loud, and for those who had the courage to be quiet.

For the women who seize up when they hear a distasteful joke and for those who spent too long laughing along because its easier to say nothing than to say anything at all.

For the women who sleep with all of the lights on, who don't leave the house after sunset, the women who feel unworthy of a voice, unworthy of their own energy and time, and never mind that of others.

For the women who just want to simply be women without fear, without pain, without their guard up.

For the women who just want to simply be... Me too.
Next page