i don't recognize you in crowds anymore. i don't have to see your face in every blond haired, blue eyed, morally ambiguous white boy. i can hear your name without the lightheadedness. there is no more bile to hold back.
i don't think i will ever forget the feeling of you. your hands. your tears on my back the minute you finished. the moment you realized what you had done. tell me, did your god ever forgive your sins? and by sins, i don't mean the ****. you didn't fear the legal repercussions, you feared hell. adultery was never your scene, you told me. you did not have premarital ***. that was a sin. and you were not a sinner. tell me, what did your priest say? did he tell you that god loves you? just as he does all his creations?
do you remember what you told me? you repeated it so many times, it is engraved into my brain. you kept telling me god would forgive me. that he would forgive me. god knows we can't help but to sin.
but i wasn't the sinner, and i'm sure this will come as a surprise, but your god does nothing for me. there is nothing your neglectful and lazy at best god can offer me. you're going to tell me that "our father" who art in heaven chose to lead you into the temptation of my nonconsenting body? should your benevolent savior be real, just know you were delivered to evil.
He treats me like a Queen, Still I can’t help but wonder if he will be like you too Funny how I am afraid of what he might become yet the most comforting place I’ve ever been is his arms. I look to him for protection yet I fear him and what he might do, He’s never given me a reason to doubt him but most of the men from my past life haunt my thoughts, spreading lies like wildfire I run to him, almost as if being attracted by a magnet, it’s out of my control I cringe whenever he takes his belt off, I know he would never hit me yet the memory of leather striking my skin like a whip, My mother’s hands pounding on the door and her dread-filled screams, lingers in the back of my mind like a nightmare I cannot escape from Now that I am older it’s easier to understand she knew what he was capable of, She had been in my position before, She never told me as a child because I had this glorified image of him, He was the first man that seemed like he wanted to take care of us and love us, I viewed him as a father and even called him Dad He had just loved his alcohol and cigars more than his love for us I sometimes start to think about what our future children will look like, But I stop in my tracks because that evil voice in my head asks “what if he turns out like him”? Will it always be like this, I fear
I drag the blade across my jagged skin My breath is heavy and cold Tears pour down my face as cutting never gets old A lot is pouring out I hate this addiction, it needs to stop now But it can't, I can't I cut to feel something, I hate feeling numb It only helps for a second
This poem is kind of a look into my mind when I self harm