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hannah Sep 14
he leaned over, breath hot against cool skin

and it didn't feel like fire, but it felt like a burn. and i closed my eyes, rapid moving things

nudging for an escape,

and thought i could hear heartbeats flooding my lungs

but from where wept, it sounded like anger.

and from where i heaved, it sounded like ripping flesh, like the slow drag of a zipper and the whip of an unfastening belt.

i could draw out the shape of him

without staring, without studying. he wanted me to remember.

& i remembered

It felt like fire then, and it burned like a flame and i opened my eyes, and kept them steady.

while, the train shook the house.

while these bones were cement things, laid out beside me.

don't cry, don't cry, my, darling, don't cry.

and for the most fragile moment,

swore his hands wound around my flesh, were there to mend me, not break me.

and for the briefest moment, i swore this was more than just

a broken body tapered to the mattress like a stain.

it wasnt raining, but it felt like it.

wait wait

the train is too loud and i feel like im being ****** right underneath


Like all flesh rubbed raw,

Everything stays a shade of pink
Would love to meet you again
After all these years

But for now,
I need you to know—

that I have always loved you,
And I always will,

It’s just that,

I don’t trust my self enough
to see you the next day,

or any day after.
It’s excruciatingly painful to be fine one minute and gone the next.
kaela May 24
the quick decision
that leaves lives filled with grief.

the quick ending
of a life that should have lasted longer.

suicide is not an option
but to those of us
it's the only answer.
please seek help if you are struggling. it may seem like the only option but it only passes your pain onto those who love and care for you. suicide hotline: 800-273-8255
i started this poem
when i was
nearly 23
i'm 24 now
almost 25
but i still feel
like a child.

trying drugs,
loving the man
who would **** me.
and i'd forgive him
take him back into my arms
let him touch me anywhere
just to feel something.
he smokes
and smokes
and smokes
through a haze
of drugs and
shame. he spoke
useless fragile
words and i drank
them up eagerly.
they tasted like
and ice.

when i'm 20
i find a therapist.
no more drugs;
still loving him.
i slide a new slate
across the kitchen
table just for him.
but it's cracking
as his fingers
pick it up,
shattering in
place. he moves
from stone
to skin. rips
and tears
until i'm

still in therapy,
i tell him
it's okay
that he
it was
the drugs:
not me.
but when i
tell him how
much it hurts
he says
maybe you
should work on that
in therapy.
i lean into
his side
but being
near him
never quite
feels the
same and
i ache for

i'm 22 when i find out
that being pressured
into *** after
saying no twice
isn't consensual
and he's not
round anymore
but at night
i hold my breath
terrified that he'll
appear. in my
dreams there
are flash
backs lying
in wait, even
though i've
begged for
some dream
less sleep.

when i'm 23
my third or fourth
tells me
she's sorry that
i had to go through
it all. and she listens
as i fade away and keeps
listening until i
can feel the earth
at my feet
once more.
she's a good
sort. i'm sad
when she

24 creeps
upon me
like a scratchy
sweater. i want to
shrug it off of my
shoulders, but it's
too cold. i'm no
longer the things
that happened
to me in that
darkening room,
and at twilight
most nights
i no longer find
myself thinking of

i feel so old.
my bones always
hurt, the cat's food
is so expensive, and
i always have chicken
in the freezer. but
i can't bring myself
to eat. the medications
keep the ache at bay
but i feel it waiting.
at least my cat always
purrs when i feed him.
makes me feel
a little

my chance to grow
got pushed back a
few years
and i probably grew
anyways, unknowingly
pushing back against
invisible walls waiting
for one to finally give.

i hate that i'm here
trapped in adolescence
i hate that i'm still
writing about him
about what happened
and how much it still
hurts me.

maybe when i'm 25
i'll try to edit
this poem.
i found this unfinished poem and decided to re-write it. it's a lot. i tried to tag trigger warnings so i hope this didn't make anyone upset. i should edit this one day. [tw: sa] = [trigger warning: ****** assaul t]
There can be no absolution
for the things I’ve done

yet you do not talk of revenge or retribution

you forgive, too easily
(or maybe I believe, too easily)

lulled into a false sense of security

maybe I will pay one day
offer a vial of my blood to a faceless God

break my bones down
until they are a pile of dust

dust that you can scatter, like ashes
pretending I was good once, kind, considerate

a girl a million miles away for the one
wielding the knife over your best friend’s heart

yes, there were mitigating circumstances
but very few victims actually **** their ******

I mean, that’s wrong. They all should, really,
and get away with it.

because people like that have given up
their right to live

**** is ****** in a way,
except you wake up…

to **** these animals is self defence,
reclaiming, asserting yourself that
you will NOT be a ******* victim

that there can be only one survivor in this
and that’s you
Renee Jul 2021
i wait for you on my crumbling precipice
and no, roaring waves heed not my call below
slow, i retrace my steps away from the  edge
but oh the ledge, its comfort calls
i wait for you, my dear, my love
to part the crowded sea, to relieve me
of the gray flag i hold that i wish to relinquish
this is not what i want, but who i am might be incongruent
with the life i imagined, golden sun and rain abhorrent
Jaicob Jul 2021
I've been taken advantage of.
I've been lied to a thousand times.
My mind is awfully broken now,
Adn my body is riddled with lines.

I can't believe you did this to me
After you said you loved me.
In the end, it was just a trap,
And the ransom was my sanity.

I made myself pretty for you,
Dolled up with bows and paint.
It was never good enough though.
You stole more of me every day.

I tore myself apart because
I couldn't be enough.
Even then you yelled at me
"Get over it.. Life is tough"

You never believed me when I said
A thing you didn't like.
I told you I hated you in my life
Always feeding me molten lies.

Even then, you pushed me away
And tore me limb from limb.
Everything I did to myself
Was caused by you, mum, not him.
Evey Emery May 2021
My cries loud, yet so silent
My screams in agony as it grabs me
I thought I had escaped,
but once again;
it has found me

It pulls me under
And holds me down
No matter what I do, I'll never get out

I struggle and scream
But it covers my mouth
As I succumb to the darkness,
My light goes out

It drowns me
never letting me go far
It locks me up behind clear bars

I cry out once more, silence...
Can't they see my agony?
It grabs me
I can't escape, it will always find me
Renee Jul 2021
A raccoon, gray tail still intact, head askew across the highway
Left to decompose on the county road, under spring’s thawing sun.
A sadness swells my throat, a differing of points of view
Where wild used to be, the raccoon mistakes concrete for dirt
Headlights for predator eyes, glowing in the complete night
Crushed undertire, underfoot, underpaw—
Sweep his carcass off that once-grass gravel
The fields of wildflowers and sideoats grama
Given way to industrialism, to a streak of urbanization
So far out in the sticks that even the animals do not know
Where the country ends and the city now begins.
Odi Apr 2021
Man like monster with
A mouth as a spinning wheel of hands/
Prey between teeth

One game of chess away from losing my
Mind/biting my head off

Man like wolf bleeding between gums
Man looking like both survival and the gun between it.
Boy looking like boy in mans body

Another poem about falling in love with dangerous people

Failing to see how they resemble every single red light you’ve ignored

Leaving home
On the plane
In the car to the airport

My blood cold, my gut sucker punched into submission

Could feel the well of grief somewhere inside of me
Like I would just
And never hit the bottom

A penny in a well makes a sound
The penny inside me finally drops

And I crack like a mule at the whip
Like birds at dawn or spring

Staying up so late I never dream

The part of the puzzle I get wrong is; fitting everything inside out and calling it beautiful/
He tries to put it back together but I tie his hands back with my tongue
Call it a game/

One where I’m safest where there are no hands
And eyes
To hold me to my promises
Love me into submission
My failed potential

The shame that filled every corner of my body
How it grew till it could not fit anymore

The year of empty
How it became a  larger and hungrier thing,

Larger than the men in my nightmares.

The silver we couldn’t melt, whispers over a fever and forehead.
When adults are talking you pretend you don’t understand

But you keep secrets locked up inside yourself

I still dream of war
Have never been on a battle ground.

They call it generational trauma ,

I say,

You don’t know the hand holding the gun to my head
What the trigger is made out of is my own flesh and blood

There are things I can’t speak of

Things I will not say but this:

I was wearing a ruffled blue top with a unicorn logo and jeans

I didn’t have any hair down there

Then I did

I liked how it felt

and then I didn’t

There is no place inside of me that can hold these two truths and not split wide open

Like a smile

Like a wound

Like the rabbit finally caught up

In the mouth of the thing.
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