Something so pure,
So emotionally binding,
Turned into unspeakable violence.
And although it was coerced into pleasure,
It felt like torture;
I couldn’t speak, yet I destroyed the silence.

Because it loved it.
If it loved it and I hated it,
I wanted to say that I had its last words,
But I tumbled in a feeling of guilt.

Because it loved it.
Because it enjoyed it.
Because it screamed for it,
Despite my continuous suffocated roars for scissors:
A plea for those two blades to cut the ligature;
It would’ve been a higher thrill than graffiti on my empire.

Leagues of leaking and leaking…
I can still breathe low, but I feel violated,
Like it’s taken a part of my alliance,
Like it’d climbed up my echelon.

If this isn’t transgression,
Than tell my soul to drown in
Someone else’s “take out, take in,”
Because I can’t take in its terrain.
It is what there is, there’s only emptiness to gain.
Did it really have to occur?

I stand in the shower
Rubbing my skin of its filth and the desires
Imprinted on my exterior in a forceful manner,
To the point where my extensions
Are the ones soaked in blood…
A blood that I hope to be a metaphor,
Not seen by my sight, but more so like a coverup;
A mending medicine that will keep my body from bleeding
All the sins committed against my entity.
It is said, and it must be true, I need healing.
I haven’t forgiven the violation of this past silhouette;
Yet, I’ve forgiven everything else.