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J Jun 2016
I can count the number of times my body has been violated on both hands,

But I need both hands to do so, though and while that might sound horrible,
I've grown to know that saying "no" does not mean "stop" to someone who insists on trying,
what I've learned is that my body was never mine to begin with,

I grew sick with a task of delivering pleasure to someone else at the cost of myself and what I learned is that
waving that white flag cuts you open and
causes you to bleed on your white sheets
you already bleached stains out of twice that same week,

My body was never mine to begin with,

but I'm taking it back.

I'm stealing my body back from the fear that stole it every night I agreed to have *** to avoid getting hit.

I'm stealing my body back from every night I said no and you still did it.

I'm stealing my body back from the paralyzing thought of what people would think about how I got into that situation instead of why you did that to me in the first place.

I'm stealing my body back from the haunting, cemented, cold look on your face when you said "I do what I want"
I shrunk into my skin,
I swore I would never feel safe in my own bones again.

I'm taking my body back because it is mine.
I'm taking it from every person who stole it from me,
even if temporarily,
at ages 6, 9, 10, 14, 16, 18 and 19.

I'm taking it back for me this time.
It is not your temple or release.
It is not your garden or your sanctuary.
My body is mine to keep.
Elizabeth P Jun 2016
Put my heart on a glass slide,
Smear its contents on the surface.
Let the tears on it dry out,
Then place it on the rack to start.
Stain it red blood from my wrist,
Rinse the scarlet with your kisses.
Pour acidic jealousy,
And let my tears wash it away.
Some drops of methylene blue...
The color of your eyes and sea...
That stained memories and my soul.
Flush it down with new tears again,
And watch the methylene blue
Stain my negative heart and stay.
seth May 2016
Art
She said
she wanted to be a work of art,
so she painted on her skin with a blade.
Red was always her favorite color.
She's dead, only alive in my head.
And she only visits me in my sleep,
as the most beautiful work of art.
Nik May 2016
My name is Daisy,
like the flower.
People tell me all the time not to **** myself,
they'll miss me.

I've never seen anyone cry over a dead flower.
Julia Mae May 2016
'how are the thoughts? the bad thoughts?'
oh, they're better, they're better...
with a feigned smile and cover down sleeves
i am so much better
i'm sorry, but i have to lie through my teeth...
SAM May 2016
you look at me waiting to hear the next word
what do you want me to say?
my tongue is a bridge between truth and lies,
each word delicately placed but still at the edge of falling.
eyes shoot down only to look back up again.
moons dance in your eyes and I can't seem to touch them.
heat is pressed against me, insects crawl on my skin.
you huff
what? I say as my head snaps up
you look at me again,
moons are morphing into constellations
and I can't see you.
your tongue is sharp as it cuts me from left to right.
so sharp that I don't notice the pain
not until I see the trickle of blood flow across my pale skin,
I am the canvas you painted.
I am covered in rust, like an old car left outside for too long
forgotten as these years.
I need to wash myself
don't leave you say, with your hand reaching out,
you touch my arm and I holler in pain
a burn mark where you touched me so softly.
I look up, there are no longer stars gleaming, sparkling against the night sky but black voids in your eyes.
I need to leave
my hand grazes the golden door ****
the gold is soaking into my skin.
please, save me you say
sounding so smooth, so rehearsed.
I don't look back as the door behind me shuts
my eyes are open but suddenly I see.
Roo May 2016
Dear David,

You tore your way through my life, leaving a devastation known only to a few. When you were done, you picked at my intimacies until I had nobody left. But I'm no longer afraid of the big bad wolf. This is my revenge.

1. I'd balance a gas light above your head and set it alight. When you go running to your friends about my torture they'd smell an unconfrontable unease that would turn them away.
2. I'd cut out your tongue and push my fist down your throat, my fingers indulging in the gushing scarlet, invading your warm insides until your breathing is cut off and I reach your voice box.
3. I'd yank it out, celebrating in your juices that run down my arm. Now, when you turn to your dearest, they will only see the fear in your eyes when they mention my name.
4. I'd carve lost trenches into your arms so that the reminder of our war could never be forgotten. There's a rare kind of memory that makes you ache for it to leave.
5. I'd etch the word 'love' onto the back of your throat and watch you choke on it. I'd hope that every time this happened, you would be reminded of me and the quirky ways I showed my affection.
6. I'd leave you squirming in pain for days on end, my back turned in silence as the shackles slowly embrace your body.
7. I'd decide that you had been punished enough and nurse you back into health, stitching your tongue back on in zig zagged attempts to apologise.
8. The next day, I'd slowly unpick the shallow stitches and start the whole process again.
9. I'd blame you for my actions. 'Baby it's your fault you make me do these things, you're just too irresistible ' I'd whisper seductively to you as my knife slips down to your groin.
10. I'd render you useless to the rest of the world, steal your thoughts with my kiss and blow them into the wind. The altered version of them would reach our friends before your voice did. The silence that echoed only added to the rumours.
11. I'd slip my knife sexily between your skin, opening up a hole so that your entire vulnerability would be glowing.
12. I'd empty the entirety of your guts onto the floor and smile as the gas light falls on to your slumpened body.  A fire will erupt over it, burning the last shreds of hope as your lips will begin to melt. Gone are the mechanisms that may have led them to believe.
13. That night, I'd bathe in your guts, ******* over the feeling of power as your burnt corpse smoked nearby.
Dear David,
I hope you some day come across this poem and finally realise the entirety that you held over me.
In your grasp forever,
Rosie.
anon May 2016
Maybe I should come with a trigger warning
Or I should I warn everyone I'm going to pull the trigger
Miguel Soliman May 2016
"i'm okay," she says to everyone.
her nights were nothing but wet sheets and wailing walls.

"i'm fine," she tells everybody.
her room is filled with nothing but a crying voice and a hopeless soul.

"i'm happy," she proclaims to all.
her wrists more crimson than brown and her eyes more red than white.

"goodbye. i'm sorry," she begs.

**And that was when all knew that she wasn't really okay at all.
I loved her deeply while she hated herself.
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