The lights dim and a curtain's drawn,
A quiet theater as the show begins.
It's the same reel playing on repeat,
A shattered heart broken from sin.

He lies next to her as he'd always done,
Reliving his day through adventurous stories.
But something about him had changed that night,
The girl became something he had to seize.

A kiss of the lips catches her off guard,
"I'm sorry" escapes from under his breath.
Her chest so tight no response can form,
What comes next will surely be her death.

One hand on her side and he pulls her close,
Another kiss as he poisons her lips.
She can feel his excitement begin to rise,
He slide his leg up to part her hips.

Interlocked now she's trapped beneath him,
The weight crashing down on her soul.
A rhythm forms while his body presses in,
Her own feelings are now out of control.

The heat grows and a pulsing begins,
Something she had never felt before.
A feeling one should be allowed to enjoy,
Instead she feels like a ***** *****.

He leaves her lying there confused,
An evil grin creeps upon his face.
Where once before a bulge began,
A wet spot had formed to take its place.

No apologies now as he shuts the door,
Alone in her bed she begins to shake.
The man she thought she could look up to,
Had become the one to make her break.

And on this scene she now feels stuck,
Burning a hole through her mind like tape.
A scene no one will choose to believe,
Because it was never actually ****.
Allison Wonder © 2018
I am sharpening my teeth,
preparing for the taste of
your flesh,

I am hesitant to take the first
bite, but I have a hunger that
nothing else will satisfy,

(revenge, revenge)

I am a creature of hate, now,
I am what you made me,
what you moulded me
into with your

bare hands. Toss back
the sheet and lay down
your gun,

show them what you
really are, open up
the scars you've forged
into my skin,

branded into my thighs,
white hot and stinging.
You say it's what I asked
for, with my ***
soaked lips,

but you knew how
the story would end
before you had even
seen me

knew the weight of your hand
smothering a scream

you came to me armed
and I was defenceless
but I am no longer

my bullets will hit your
heart, and I will forget
your smell, I will
shake of your
stale breathe

I'm not here to forgive you

(This story is mine)
Kate G 23h
It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
The hour where naught is awake but
Lovers and dreamers
And those deemed too far gone by the rest of us;
To which we send a wilting flower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
Here I mourn the loss of life
When I took a sterile sword to my own heart
And peered into the gaping, gaping void
Dissolving away the ghost that haunts my hollow tower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
I mourn the incursion that initiated it
Mourn a life I have known so well
As well as a life I think I shall not meet
Tied, side by side, in a waking melancholy sour.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
Doves less mournful than I have passed on to sleep
And he is, as I dream, forming faster each day
Only now, in death, so dear to me
And I reach out, into the darkness of the night
And end the mourning hour.
The first time I wrote this poem, it was about a ****** little crush I had. Now, I've rewritten it so it fits a new sorrow in my life, an eternal grieving I shall bear forevermore.
Your smell lingers
on my skin,
caught in the scars
you forged,

a purple bed -
spread, to match
my legs

contoured to your

my screams silenced
by your hands, that
start to wander

between my legs,

a radio blasting meaningless
pop songs, that will become

a horros, hollow
soundtrack, every time
I'm caught off guard

blood - so much
blood, searing agony,

as you force your way
into me,

I am ice, frozen
solid and cold

I do not want
to thaw

to carry the scars
outside this

to take this nightmare
into daylight

I run, as soon as
I can,

I fumble at the

picking it apart
as you picked


I'm not going
to carry these

I am not going
into battle

we are not
at war

no, I will

and leave our
story in this
Zywa 1d
You can't see it
in the room, not on the floor
you can't see it anymore
in my sheath, the wound
of his blind attack
it's over, I am
myself, my body
washed, my home recaptured
ready for the fight
with you, whoever you are
you follow until I release you
until I release myself

it is my bed, my belly
your pleasure has to wait
for what I want

because I didn't want it
not see, not feel, not remember
I wandered over the ceiling

the nothing of nowhere
I was not there, not at home
in this room, on this floor
Collection Bruises
the comfort of this solitude grows within me each day
i need you to know that i am not alright
i am scared of my own mind
it’s terrifying in here
One day this will all hurt less
and the outline of his face will begin to fade away
you don't have to forgive
and you will never forget
but you do have to learn how to live again
Across the way lights flicker in the darkness calming my mind
lulling me to sleep like a sweet lullaby
with your poison running through my veins
i can't come down i'm off in the clouds

you pervade into my void
making me a reflection of your own identity
your throbbing dagger is merciless
no-one will ever hurt me more
you won't accept any less

i watch as the shadows begin to
transform and transpire behind you
on this bed made of glass and stone
i realize i'm in an illusion more
merciful than the reality
It comes at you full force
unrelenting and unforgiving
i never saw it coming
but i saw you
The day you abandoned me
was the day i abandoned you
yet i’m told i must turn to you and have faith
if i don’t i’m told that the devil resides in me
but you let him in

he reached inside of me forcing his intention
casting his demons inside of my virtue
the same virtue i held onto for you
as he ripped off my wings
you let the halo slip around my neck
imprinting a constant reminder of my indignity

now i don’t know how to begin to forgive you
i don’t know if i can
you are not above reproach
and i am justified in my anger
to free myself from him i must free myself from you
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