Dear ___,
You have made it terribly difficult to trust. You have made it impossible to not question, not fear, not loathe. You brought this side of me to life.
Did you hate me the entire time? Or is it just now? I can't believe anything you say. You are a liar. A pathological pervert.
Did you touch me? Did you do something to me? Those nights, when I woke up and discovered that my night-shirt had been unbuttoned and pushed to the sides, was that you?
What is this hatred that you have kindled inside of me? What am I?
I am so sick of myself. So sick of men. So sick of YOU. I can think of innumerable things I'd rather do than see you again. I can imagine numerous horrors I'd rather face than you. And you have always had the audacity to try and force your way back into my heart.
You are a worm. Lower than a worm. You disgust me. You frighten me. You make me sick. You force me to look back on our lives and see the torture marks. The scars you have left still bleed periodically. Even if you pretend they don't exist. Its almost funny, you denying all the pain you caused. Its almost humorous. Almost.
I think of our days together. I think of those times. You are a poison and I'm pushing my veins full of anti-venom. I'm trying to flush you out of my system and I can't do it. I can't rid my heart of your taproot. It is stupid that you can still make me feel like this still.
You made flying an impossibility. You dragged me out of the sky and staked me to the ground. You banished me to the darkness, left me to wither without the sun. You made love a risk. You made living a hazard. You sank all the dreams, tied me down with weights so that I would drown.
You clipped my wings so that I'd have no desire to leave the earth. Does it bother you that they have grown back?
You have made it terribly difficult to trust. You have made it impossible to not question, not fear, not loathe. You brought this side of me to life.
Did you hate me the entire time? Or is it just now? I can't believe anything you say. You are a liar. A pathological pervert.
Did you touch me? Did you do something to me? Those nights, when I woke up and discovered that my night-shirt had been unbuttoned and pushed to the sides, was that you?
What is this hatred that you have kindled inside of me? What am I?
I am so sick of myself. So sick of men. So sick of YOU. I can think of innumerable things I'd rather do than see you again. I can imagine numerous horrors I'd rather face than you. And you have always had the audacity to try and force your way back into my heart.
You are a worm. Lower than a worm. You disgust me. You frighten me. You make me sick. You force me to look back on our lives and see the torture marks. The scars you have left still bleed periodically. Even if you pretend they don't exist. Its almost funny, you denying all the pain you caused. Its almost humorous. Almost.
I think of our days together. I think of those times. You are a poison and I'm pushing my veins full of anti-venom. I'm trying to flush you out of my system and I can't do it. I can't rid my heart of your taproot. It is stupid that you can still make me feel like this still.
You made flying an impossibility. You dragged me out of the sky and staked me to the ground. You banished me to the darkness, left me to wither without the sun. You made love a risk. You made living a hazard. You sank all the dreams, tied me down with weights so that I would drown.
You clipped my wings so that I'd have no desire to leave the earth. Does it bother you that they have grown back?
beautiful blog kisses charles
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. XO's, Sarai
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