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xeron Mar 2015
i’m part human, part crime scene.
once you were finished with me, i was mincemeat.
something only fit for dogs.

i could **** you in your sleep for what you did to me.
god knows i’ve planned it out.
dear god, here’s how i would **** him:
a knife to the throat first, then
open up his chest and stuff a baby doll inside.
mercy is not for girls like me.

darling when you touched me it felt as easy as breathing
(while i was drowning)

i was a child who wanted to play at love.
you were a man who wanted to play at violence.
somehow, i thought we were the same.

did you ever love anyone else the same way you loved me;
all hands for taking and ribs for breaking?
or was i something special to you?

was i a fresh flower waiting to be dissected petal by petal?
she loves me. she loves me not.
she loves me.

i remember the stories you told me.
the songs you sang to me.
if i remember those, i will forget
the violent colours with which you painted me.

i remember you.
too much.
every man with black hair and blue eyes looks like you.
every girl with black eyes and blue lips looks like me.

take that mirror off the wall and show me my face.
pale as oleander. paler for remembering.
and remember something.

remember, i am not the child i once was.
remember, i am an adult now.
remember: i am no longer yours for the taking
  i am no longer yours for the breaking.

— The End —