When I was a young girl, I would wish I could be invisible, to the eyes that looked for me in the dark of night. My bed was not my imaginary princess castle; It was the birth place for evil. A grown man’s twisted mind, my small body he did find. I was four. He … More Child’s Voice
My door is closed in the dark, and if you don’t make it back by the time the night meets the ground, I will not let you in. My curtains will be drawn, and so will your time have come to it’s end. I reminded you of the curfew, and I told you; the cold … More Unwelcome
If I leant back in this hard wooden chair, and willingly placed my wrists on the arms, and let you cable tie my hands to it’s frame; would you? Would you follow through? Would you help me forget? Would you whisper your apologies in between each blow, each cut, each laceration of my skin? Or … More Would You?
There are seconds, sometimes long hours, where my head feels heavy. Heavy with a weighted accumulation of thoughts. Some unimportant, and some important enough to be worth avoiding. But to turn my back on one, means to stare at another, and the pressure is not unlike that of a boiling kettle. Steam burns brand those … More I’m Fine.
Remembering you, is like placing my lips on a heavy bottomed whiskey glass, filled with tiny sharp shards of a broken mirror and tilting it into my mouth. Slicing my tongue, the same tongue that licked the blood from your lips when you fell into my glass desk. Tearing at my throat, with a familiar … More Let Go.
If I could peel back the skin and crack open your ribs, snap them clean off, like the brittle bones of a long dead carcass.. What would I find, behind the flesh that spared you transparency? A heart? Or a blackened and charred lump that’s smell would confirm the image your eyes gave away? The … More Lesson Learned.
So, about 7 or 8 years ago, I held one of my brothers girlfriends up against a wall by her throat. I am only 5ft tall, and I remember locking my elbow so that her weight didn’t buckle my arm. I had been silently hating her with more venom with each encounter we had. She … More Temper, temper. The things people remember…
Passive aggressive bullies. A breed unto their own. Mean streaks mixed with self loathing, a combination of bad seeds planted and buried deep until the rain comes. Mud that drowns the already suffocated, but fuels the malice and the seething. There is no bravery. There is no forward motion. Just blunt jabs that weather the … More Passive Aggressive’s. Yellow.
We shook hands, to make it official; the mutual betrayal of all that was sacred. The secrets to be kept wrapped up in white boxes with white ribbon, neatly bow tied and tucked away on a shelf, and padlocked for safe keeping. I was a child, and he knew what promises meant.
Would you bleed for me? Lick it off my lips like you needed me? Sit me on a couch with your fingers on my mouth, With your fingers in my mouth till you needed me? You look so cool when you’re reading me… I bet you kiss your knuckles, Right before they touch my cheek…. … More Trigger