Growing up i looked up
to you.
You showed me what it was like to be brave.
But that one day, you chose to mess it all up.
"Come to my room, lets watch a movie."
Little did I know , I was about to be violated in my own home.
"Give me a hug"
But oh this was no hug, i wish I would'e known.
How could i have been so DUMB.
"Oh its not my fault" I say, I was too young.
The feeling of your touch down there.
"This doesn't feel right.."
" i don't care"
Nena walked in, "What the hell are yall doing??"
"He said to give him a hug" I said
That night, we got a stern talking to.
"Don't ever do that again"
Was that it? All you had to say?
I had felt like my innocence had been taken away.
Years later, there's not a day that goes by
where i don't think of that traumatizing, long-lasting memory of mine.
Maybe I'm just overreacting.
Or maybe, you should've taken action.
I'll never feel the same again.

Does my clarinet  
blame herself  
when she  

screeches?  

I asked her —  
careful  
not to press  
the wrong buttons.  

She hummed along,  
nodded  
like a good girl.  

(𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?)

I’m the one  
who blows  
down her throat,  
pressing keys  
until she forgets  
how to breathe.  

Her voice cracked —  
guilt hung in the air  
like smoke.  

"𝘪 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯,"
she whispered.  
"𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦."

I strike her notes harder.  
She chokes out bits,  
broken pieces  
that only make me angrier.  

Your wheezing is because  
you’re fragile.  
Cheap.  
Not because of me.  

(...𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?)

"𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶,"
she sobbed.  

And I  
almost told her —  
𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗱𝗼.

But the truth  
lodged in my throat,  
behind the breath  
that made her scream.

Didn't you know?
Didn't they tell you?

You should have known.
At least you ought to.

It's Psychology 101.
A classic class.

In how to charm.
Then disarm the victim.

Didn't you know?
Weren't you paying attention?

You were too caught.
In his gaze.
The way he said your name.

He played the prey.
Perfectly waiting.

Biding his time.
As his jaw gnawed,
At his cheek.

In the back of the class.
He watched you.
Following your footsteps.

Waiting to feast.
It was psychology 101.

But I guess you must,
have fallen asleep.

If there isn't any hope,
for you?

Then what hope is there for us?
Next time I hope you'll be paying attention.

Instead of falling asleep.
In my lesson.

victim
car crash
bodies colliding
in violence
crying out
to no one
(again)

So maybe I see you in him.

Maybe I see unconditional love on both sides.

Maybe I see none of his mistakes, and none of mine because he doesn’t bring them up.

Maybe I see some one who has some type of control over something I don’t.

Maybe he needs the fact I live life day by day and I need his plans.  
Maybe he needs me to show him plans don’t go accordingly but my bubbly personality makes that worth while, maybe my optimism needs his pessimism so together we have a realistic view, for realism is both optimistic and pessimistic, but not without a realistic view-

You mix two colors together and get an idea plastered in purple -

Your favorite color is red and so is his.

Blue is the color that I associate to you.

He told me he would show me purple sky’s and I have a portrait to show the accuracy -  

He’s purple sky’s

If the sky was around my neck.

And painted with a belt.

But, I could belt out how much I love you.

With screams under my pillow because maybe it’s too abrasive.

But is abrasive compatible with abusive?

Maybe I too am abusive? Or maybe I was just prepared enough for abuse that I fight back and I’m reactive.

Not like an active volcano, because in technicalities he’d be reactive to his emotions, and we could call that reactive abuse-
But we know what the term reactive abuse refers to.

And as i reference purple sky’s this guys hand painted the picture around my neck when I was actually supposed to be using my neck to look above me and reaching for the galaxy behind the sun set that painted the sky purple for me.

And I wasn’t being facetious when I said I have the portrait it’s on my camera roll but I was on a roll when I drew the picture for you as he drew his belt from around his waist for me.

What a waste my life would be if he’s The One that kills me.

I wasted my time on him drugs and alcohol, I wasted my potential- when he’s my potential murderer. And I his potential victim.

It’s crazy when I think back.

He told me he saw my potential, but did he really mean my potential as me. Or did he mean his potential that he had set for me. Victim me.

So, yeah I guess I would be lying if I said I see him in you.

You’re nothing alike…
You’d choke him for choking me.
And he’d choke me because I drank today.

When you’d tip the bottle back and tell me to chug..

Y’all are nothing alike.

That’s why I was in love with you, and he is the love i let my life have.

"Ill do that" she said

She was so always eager to please

But then quick to anger

"No worries I'll fix it"
She always said

In return she got a warm smile

"I'll babysit for the coming years"she said

"I'll be a listening ear" she said

"What do you need help with " she said

"Have you eaten " she said

"You sick we need a doctor" she said

Then her cup got empty

She couldn't pour anymore

Yet she felt guilty that
she couldn't give,

That she blamed them for it

Her path became thorny

In return she tortured herself

Became her worst nightmare

And then she met him

He promised her love beyond this realm

That she was the purest soul he has met

What she was,still is ,is a torture device designed specifically for her

She should be validated

And he would make her understand that

He became he refill

A therapist she could divulge her secrets to

But she forgot he was human

She forgot her touch was sinister

She tainted him too

And he threw that to her face

And she couldn't blame him,or them  for that

Because there is always more to the story

She might be her author

But what she paints,what she writes

Would never be the full story

Because even she alternates between being a victim in her story

But what stays more constant is she must be the villian in this story