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#savingme Poems

#savingme – Poem #240

I am doing this old school, putting pen to paper.
Like 13 years ago when I started writing this mess down,
learned that violence can inspire creativity.

On the floor, the bed dragged to the door,
mommy told me not to make much noise because dad
was convinced he was alone.

In case he heard me, got upset and kicked the door down
there was only one way, jump out of the window
to the grass that, I swear, was never the greener.

I found a gift in your violence, beauty in the bruises
that covered my mother’s body every time you saw the
bottom of the bottle.

I found words beneath the insults to write down my anger,
to make sure it doesn’t boil inside of me turning me into the
drunk, selfish monster you came to be.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

Categories
Poems

Poem #161

Midnight and I’m drunk. Found my peace
in a bottle, looking at the bottom of the cup.
My mind is empty; I’ve wasted all of my
thoughts on you, on us.

Midnight and I’m drunk. I don’t want to
leave this bar. I’ll just pretend that somewhere
in this cigarette fog I’ll find your eyes and they’ll
still have the same shine.

Midnight and I’m drunk wandering the streets
of my empty town. Crossing through red lights and
I don’t care what happens now, just come and
puzzle in the broken pieces you left behind.

Midnight and I’m drunk. Forgive me for all the
messages but you know how I get when the wine
has a hold of me. Could you give me a sign or just
tell me where do I go from now?

Midnight and I’m drunk. The traffic light is blinding my
tired eyes. The only thing I hear is a train that you
used to take home after spending the evening
by my side.

Midnight and I’m drunk catching the last bus
home so I could stare at the bracelet you gave me
the last time you were mine. I’m waiting for daylight
to bring soberness and stop me from running to the past.
Where are your hands to carry me to bed tonight at midnight?