It'll be two years soon.
Two years,
Five psychiatric medications,
Six relapses,
20 pounds lost and gained,
And lost again,
And one suicide attempt.

And now I'm here,
Still trying to wash your fingerprints
Off of my bruised skin.
Trying to forget your voice
And the feeling of your grip
On my wrists and throat.

Two years later
And I still can't bring myself
To say the word out loud.
The R word.
Two years later and I still
Tell myself
"You idiot, you should have known."

Two years later
And every time I pass your house
On the way to see my psychiatrist
I have half a mind
To burn it to the ground.
To throw rocks in your windows.
To slash the tires
On your red jeep.

Maybe by next year
I'll stop seeing you in my dreams.
I'll stop feeling your hands
All over me.
I'll stop hearing
Your voice breaking through tears
Telling me you love me.

Maybe by next year
The scars from when
I locked myself in your bathroom
And tore myself apart
Will fade completely.
Maybe by next year
I'll actually be able
To say the word "****".

Red as the blood gushing from her wrist.
Purple from the bruises on her body as the beating
Green is her eyes yet she doesn't want to see
Yellow is her body from the **** her father impacted her
Red,purple,green,yellow
She wishes that she had a normal life
Red,purple,green,yellow
Her body aches for love, as when her father whispers "I love you babe" she cries
Red,purple,green,yellow
Her mother calls her fat and ugly while she beats her
Red,purple,green,yellow
She slits her wrists while she cries
Red,purple,green,yellow
Shes now dead as she was hanging by a thread
~A.E.G.

My mind is at war with my actions
Running and running
Dodging mines at every turn desperately trying to keep you happy knowing that one wrong step I will explode into tiny bits and pieces,
amounting to nothing as I once did
My heavy boots I pick up with every step I take knowing when I get to you I will regain your trust for the evening
Shooting me down each night in every ***** of my body with your hateful words knowing that your country will win the war in my head and I will forever lose
Falling asleep each night with fear that someone else could take my place
Knowing that your ego could fill the entire desert
My blood pours out of my body as my words do on the page describing what hell I am experiencing being under your command and how I desperately need out

But you cannot just simply
leave the war.

Love is like a book in many ways,
And you are the author.

There is a beginning which can be shaped in many ways.

A middle or present which is carried out based on the first chapter.

But whether or not there is an end is up to you.

If you write the rest of the book good enough,
Then the rest of it never has to stop.

If it's the perfect story,
It can be written in volumes.

Each letter spun together,
With the heartstrings of a desperate lover.

Every word written in care with tears,
From her heartbroken cheeks.

Every paragraph dripping,
With the eternal hope for the future.

Despite the low point of some chapters,
There will always be a turn of events for the better.

This creates a story that can go on for thousands of lifetimes,
Like that of the love, he holds in the highest esteem for her.

Love is like a book that never ends,
Only if it is true and pure.

~S.C. Kelley

You were the sun I let everything revolve around.

But like the sun, you took it as deserving.

Ungrateful.

Insatiable.

Self-absorbed in the midst of this vast galaxy,

failing to realize you are just a star,

like all other stars,

not even the biggest,

nor the most fiery.

You were only special because I made you so.

Without my world rotating around you,

you would be nothing more

than just another medium-sized star in this vast, vast universe.